


Like a Shotgun to the Heart

by kittypox



Series: Dadverse [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alpha Shiro (Voltron), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Comedy, Dad Kogane - Freeform, Galaxy Garrison, M/M, Omega Keith (Voltron), Omegaverse, SHEITH - Freeform, dad with a shotgun, dadverse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2018-11-18 14:40:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 56,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11292771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittypox/pseuds/kittypox
Summary: His son was capable of handling himself. His son was intelligent. But he knew that regardless of those two facts, Keith was going to attract a hoard of alphas when he left the safe confines of their humble abode and began school. Action needed to be taken.  There were only two types of dads: bad pun makers or meet-you-at-the-door-with-a-shotgun. He knew what type he had to be.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> And now for something that is not heart breaking angst and drama (side eye to myself and 'Alpha Hunter'). This is mostly a comedy fic, but I slapped the mature rating on it because there may be sex and who knows what I'll decide to do. Better safe than sorry. Rape/non-con tag likely for discussions. 
> 
> Anyway...I hope this fulfills some of our dad Kogane needs!

A cool wind was blowing through the bluffs, rolling off the dunes, stirring and lifting the waves of clay colored sand, shifting the desert landscape, altering the world about him. The world was meant to shift, to fall all around him; the old, the dark, the negative were all to give way to reveal a world so much better than he could have ever imagined. 

It didn’t give way. The world had fallen apart, but it was still dim, cold, and as hopeless as it had ever been. Moreso. His world was empty.

The frigid air was seeping in through the window he had left cracked midday, trying to air out the stuffiness from a hot, humid afternoon that sent the thermometer to its peak. He should close it. The house was cool, the heat of the day properly chased away. He couldn’t muster the will to care. The cold didn’t bother him. It wouldn’t kill him.

Sighing, he lifted himself from his battered sofa and wove his way to the kitchen, kicking at the stray cans of beer and empty food tins littering the floor. He had grown despondent and slobbish. As he pulled another beer from the fridge the murky, foul scent of rot reached his nose. A chore for another day, he decided, passing by the sink of stacked dishes and rotting food. 

The floorboards creaked heavily as he plodded around, circling the small confines in search of...something. He wasn’t sure what. Perhaps her. If he looked hard enough, maybe he could still find some proof that she had been there, that she was real and not just some exotic dream or fantasy he had concocting in his desert-heat-hazed brain. His toe caught on an empty box of formula mix; he cringed. He did have one item of proof that she hadn’t been a figment of his dreams.

_God_ , he dropped his head in his hands as he fell back into the sofa. How was he supposed to do this? He was no father. He wasn’t even a husband, which was why their agreement had worked out so well. For however long his lady was on earth, he would be there for her; her assistant, her play thing, her friend. But not her husband, not her mate. She had no interest in tying herself to him. 

He glanced to the emptied orange crate sitting in the corner that he had lined with blankets for a makeshift cradle. 

_Way to fucking go, Kogane._ He growled at himself. _You don’t even have a solid job. You don’t even have enough money in the bank to buy groceries most days, much less a crib. How the hell are you gonna take care of a baby?_

He didn’t even have a mate to help with the duties. If he was unfit to be a parent, his lady had been completely and utterly incapable of it. Why she had even carried the baby when she was planning on leaving them behind still baffled and stumped him. She stayed long enough to wean the baby onto formula and then...gone. One day she was there, begrudgingly tending to her offspring, the next morning all traces of her existence had vanished. 

The day had been coming. He knew that she wanted to leave, _had_ to leave. They weren’t mates. Still, he had expected _something_ ; a fond farewell, a tender stroke of fingers across his face, one final rut. Anything. But, no; she left with no word or indication that she might be back, that she would miss them, that she loved them. 

A mournful wail rose from the crate, as if his son too lamented the loss of the woman who, in another universe, could have been loving mother and mate. He tried ignoring what he knew was a summons for attention. Crying it out was a valid method to dealing with infants. 

...Not with his child though. Ten minutes later and his son had not paused for breath. At least he knew the boy was healthy; he had the best set of lungs this side of the desert.

“Alright, kid, quit yer whining.”

With dragging feet, he plodded over to the crate and crouched down, pulling the blanket aside. 

“What? What do ya want now?”

Immediately the wailing stopped, a pair of wide, unhappy eyes stared up at him— _his_ eyes, he realized.

“Yeah? What do ya want? Ya got something to say, Keith?” The infant continued to stare up at him, blinking stupidly. “You know your name yet? You recognize it? It’s Keith.”

What the hell was he doing, he wondered. Of course the kid didn’t know his name. It would be another few months before he could hope that his son would begin picking up words. If the boy spoke, it would make things infinitely easier on him. As was, every time the baby cried he spent ten minutes trying to decipher what the shrill wailing was about. Was he hungry? Wet? Cranky? Was there any reason at all for the baby to be weeping? He swore Keith had spells of screaming just for the hell of it. He could not be sure, but he blamed it on the mother’s genes and carried on. 

This time, his son helped him root out the problem, getting up on his wobbly legs and reaching for his shirt.

_Oh, god, he wants up._

“Okay, kiddo...just...don’t squirm. Or shit on me. Or spit up on me. Yer vomit is acidic, I swear...” 

Asking an infant not to squirm was like asking a lake not to be wet, he knew, and the second he had Keith under the arms and lifted, his son was struggling. He dropped the boy onto his shoulder, cringing as Keith wriggled close, rubbing all over his neck, dowsing himself in his father’s scent. All at once the squirming stopped.

“...Keith?”

He patted the infant’s back, chest tightening in fear as his son went limp. _Oh, god._ This behavior wasn’t normal; babies didn’t just stop moving. He had heard about this before, he thought. SIDS or something horrible, where babies just up and died for no reason at all. His heart stopped. Not knowing what to do, he whapped the boy firmly on the back several times. At last Keith keened at him, shifting slightly to bury his cheek into the crook of his neck. 

“Jesus H. Christ, kid, you scared me shitless.” Keith cooed happily and a moment later he felt a tiny tongue prod at his scent glad. “Is that whatcha want? You want to _cuddle?_ ”

Cuddling he could do. Cuddling was easy. Heaving a sigh of relief, he dropped onto his flat cot, adjusted his grip on his son, leaned back, and just relaxed. A minute later he remembered the full can of beer he had left on the kitchen counter, but he would not risk his son’s ire. A brief buzz was not worth an evening of screaming. For well over an hour Keith remained virtually immobile on his shoulder, keening and cooing occasionally, licking at random intervals. He could do this. If this was a part of fatherhood, then maybe, just maybe, he could pull himself up, get his shit together, and man up. His son needed a father. There were better men out there to fill such a role, but fate had seen fit to stick him with the duty as well. Without a doubt, he would be an abject failure at it, but he swore he would try. 

\-----

Terror was also a part of fatherhood, he quickly learned. Infants were notoriously good at getting into things they aren’t meant to—his son was a goddamn Houdini when it came to closed cabinets, drawers he thought were out of his son’s reach, and, damn, the kid was good at disappearing. The first time he lost the boy, he was certain he was having a heart attack. His heart hammered like thunder, blood roaring in his ears as he tore the cabin apart, throwing pillows and sofa cushions aside, lifting furniture, even running a circuit around the outside of the house in case the baby had managed to maneuver the screen door. 

Just as he was succumbing to his rank terror and reaching for the phone to dial 911, he heard a happy squeal above him. A second later, his son landed with a thud on his back, clawing wildly as he tried to cling to the leather jacket. It was a nightmare, but Keith had laughed, the happy, thoughtless giggle of a content infant, not caring that he hung from his father’s arm like a ragdoll and, had the man not caught him, he would have gone splat on the floor. Of course Keith didn’t know that; he was a baby. But, Jesus, if the kid kept it up—where the hell had Keith even dropped from?

“Yer gonna be the death of me, kid.” he lamented, cradling the amused infant to his chest. 

Keith cooed at him innocently, pressing close and snuggling into the warmth of his father’s chest. 

“I hope you hear my heartbeat and how it’s banging like a drum ‘cause of you.”

This was not to be a one time event, he knew instinctively. His son was going to plague him and turn his hair gray prematurely. A pair of wide violet eyes lifted, accompanied by a gentle keen.

“You know I’m talking to ya? I should have named you troublemaker.”

The boy chirped at him, as if he understood.

He exhaled a breath, catching on a note of hysterical laughter. Keith chirped again, mimicking the sound as best he could a moment later. For several minutes he stood there in the kitchen, rocking his son gently, chirping and keening encouragingly as the boy gaze up at him, answering his wordless calls. There was something viscerally satisfying, seeing the absolute trust and adoration in his tiny boy’s eyes. The beat of his heart changed suddenly. His world shifted, his mind moving with it. 

“Dear god, I love you. I’m gonna protect you until the day I die. Nothing will ever happen to you, I swear it.”

Keith hummed in response, opening his mouth and letting out a pleased cry when his father bent down to kiss the crown of his head.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His name is...what?
> 
> Or...
> 
> Seventeen now, Keith is ready to break out into the world. The garrison is at the tips of his fingers, but first he has to pass the entrance exams. and Survive his father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Christ it took me literally 7 re-uploads to get this right.
> 
> ANYWAY. It's a comedy I say as the first chapter isn't that funny. Next one will be. Promise.

"Dad, do _not_ pull over."

His son huffed at him from the passenger side of the truck, fixing him with an expression nothing short of an irritated pout. He glanced at the boy, an amused twist to his lips.

"Impatient today?" 

Keith huffed again, turning his head to scowl at the man flagging them down by the side of the road. 

"It's just Ern. Relax; we'll get there with plenty of time to spare."

Keith did not answer, instead folding his arms over his chest and scowling petulantly out the window. The truck drifted to the shoulder and stopped. When the large man ambled over, huffing and making a show of his exhaustion, his father had to remind him that he would not be able to hear if he did not roll down the window. For a moment Keith debated whether or not to obey the subtle command, but a sharp snap from his father checked him and he turned the window crank.

The large man leaned in, arms folded on the door, smiling. "Tex. Little Kogane. What are you up to today?"

Keith wrinkled his nose; any other day he would be happy to see Ern's round face and take in the smell of baked-in chicken grease that hung about the man like a poultry scented halo. When Ern was around there was no room for anything but laughter, happiness, and an unending buffet of chicken. He was an angel sent to earth to look after them. Not that day though. That day was his day and his father was whittling it away uselessly. He wanted to shove Ern's face back out the window and demand his father step on the gas. 

"I’m just taking the kiddo up to the garrison for the second part of his entrance exam." Tex explained, smiling proudly.

Ern appeared surprised, his brows lifting comically high on his forehead. "S'at right?"

"He passed the written exam with flying colors. Now he has to pass the physical portion. After that, the mental tests."

The two men shared a long, steady look. Some deep conversation was passing between them, unspoken. Keith looked between the two, confused. Eventually they began speaking once more, chatting amiably about trivial things like the new highway patch and the state of the weather. Keith hoped his life would never become so boring that the highlight of his day was a chance meeting with a friend to discuss the roads. If he made it into the garrison, he was almost ensured to avoid such a fate. The thought made him even more anxious; all of his dreams rode on his performance that day. That day he would make his future or break it. When he could no longer sit idly and tolerate the subject-less chatter, he cleared his throat loudly and swept his hands dramatically towards the road.

"He's nervous." his father explained in a flat tone, pinning him with a disapproving look.

"Am not."

Ern smacked his lips together thoughtfully, gaze lingering on the boy a long moment. "Well, I won't take up anymore of your time then. Do good, little Kogane. You can tell me all about it later." He reached over and ruffled Keith's hair before leaning back and offering a salute. “Tex."

His father returned the salute.

As the engine roared back to life, Keith exhaled a breath he had not realized that he had been holding. Despite the bold lie he told, he was obviously nervous. His life would not end there if he did not make it into the garrison, he knew, but he did not want to think about that possibility. He had spent years charting the stars, exploring the desert, dreaming of great adventures. He was drawn to the night sky, like it was a second home, calling him to it. If he made it through the day--

Tex cleared his throat loudly. "You'll apologize to Ern the next time we see him."

Keith huffed, his worrisome thoughts interrupted. "For?"

"For being rude. That man has known you since you were born. He's changed your diapers, fed you, given you a gift every year for your birthday--you respect relationships like that, son. He practically helped raise you, Keith."

"...Fine."

"Excuse me, what was that?"

Keith sighed dramatically. "Yes, sir."

"Good boy."

Maybe he had been a little testy, Keith thought, but his father should have expected as much. He had applied to a grand total of three colleges. The state school accepted him (hard not to when they had a policy in place that prohibited them from rejecting applications), the Ivy league had yet to get back to him, and the Galaxy Garrison had had not only accepted his application, but he had passed the first round of entrance exams. If he performed well that day, he had only one more circuit of tests to undergo and he would be in. He would be part of the freshman class entering the garrison. All of his childhood dreams of reaching the stars would be within his grasp if he passed the tests. How could he not be overexcited?

He tried to focus on something else; he was driving himself mad. He thought about Ern and the man’s perpetual smile. He thought about Ern’s chicken hut and the hens he had played with a child. He thought about his father’s army of desert vehicles and how carefree the man looked while they roared through the desert dunes, the wind in his hair, dogtags flying wildly. He liked when his father was happy. At those times, he thought he saw a glimmer of the man his father used to be, the man he saw in the pictures stashed secretly beneath his father’s cot. When his father was happy, he saw the reckless soldier that Ern and the other ex-military men about town claimed Tex was. It was difficult for him to imagine his father as anything but the uptight recluse that he was, but he was told that there was no one as legendary in military lore as Tex Kogane. 

They liked to tease him, saying that someday he would follow in his father’s footsteps and become the next troublemaker Kogane, the heir to Tex Kogane’s great name. Those would be big shoes to fill. 

"Dad?" he blurted, chasing away the anxious turning of his stomach with talk of nonsense.

"Hmm?"

"Why does everyone call you Tex?" 

He had never really questioned the oddity before; he was so used to thinking of the man as ‘dad’. Once one became a parent, was there any other name that mattered? Keith did not think so, but he doubted his father would approve of having his identity completely erased to become plain dad. 

His father made a soft noise of disgust at the question. "It's short for Texas."

"Texas?"

"That's where your granddad was stationed and where I was stationed after graduating the garrison and completing my first military tour."

That made sense, Keith supposed. It certainly explained why his dad had the harshest southern accent he had ever heard. You could cut glass with that accent. He took a moment to thank his lucky stars that he spent much of his childhood at the international school, where there was little to no exposure to the world outside the safety of the military compound. The accent had not snuck in and claimed him as well. ...Mostly. When he was exceptionally nervous or frightened, he had noticed that a distinct twang would enter his voice. But only during those times. He refused to acknowledge that he might be a tiny bit of what unkind city folk called a redneck. 

Something continued to bother him though.

"You weren't born in Texas. You aren’t even American. Why don't people call you by your real name?"

Bless the boy for that innocent question. His father laughed, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel in amusement. “Keith, the reason people call me Tex is because they are straight incapable of pronouncing my birth name. They couldn't even be bothered to try, so they grasped at the easiest name they could pin on me." He shook his head, embarrassed for the stupidity of others. "Hence why, when you were born, I gave you an Anglican name and not a proper Japanese one. Yer granddad was probably rolling in his grave when I named you."

For all he had heard about his grandfather, Keith suspected that was true. Rumor was his grandfather was a real asshole. Traditional, Tex said, but, yes, an asshole. If tradition was beating the crap out of your kids for stepping a toe out of line or getting a poor grade on a test, he was very happy that his father had been Americanized. Whatever beast of a man his grandfather had been, his father had grown into the opposite type. Oh, his backside got a good licking when he earned it, but he never questioned his father's undying devotion or feared the fall of his hand.

Keith hummed thoughtfully, propping is feet on the dashboard. "Do you think granddad would have liked me?"

Truthfully, Tex had pondered that same question many a night. He was sad to have come to the conclusion that Keith would have been loathed. His father had taken issue with every step he had taken in his life and would likely have continued to take offense, had a heart complication not taken him to his grave early. That he had a child out of wedlock would have been a scandal worthy of being disinherited. If there had been anything to inherit in the first place, at least. No doubt, had the old man still been around, he would have tried to bully him into giving his son up, if not for being born out of wedlock then for presenting as an omega in a family of overly proud alphas. 

"Bastard."

"Dad?"

"Not _you_ , son." He reached over and ruffled the boy's hair. "Don't waste yer time worrying about whether or not a crotchety old man like yer grandfather would have thought well of you. He hated me, if that says anything about how he felt towards his own blood. We're better off not thinkin' about him."

"Do you miss him?"

"Absolutely not. When he died, I got piss ass drunk and literally danced on his grave."

"Hell, dad..."

A dark chuckled rumbled from Tex’ chest, thinking of the his father's last moment, may the bastard rot in hell. There was no love lost between them. Only some strange, sick sense of duty had compelled him to attend the man’s bedside while he withered and died; he would have otherwise happily gone about his business, knowing his father was dying a slow, horrible death. Blood had come to mean very little to Tex; early in his youth he had learned that he was a pawn to his family, not a beloved son. He was used and as such he used in turn. It was a clinical, but miserable way to live. His childhood had left him jaded and he carried that weight with him well into adulthood. Even when he forged friendships, he could not help but consider how those people would one day be of use to him. When he met new people, he pondered whether their acquaintance was worth the energy to upkeep. It wasn't until his son was born that he felt his ideology shift from looking out for number one to sacrificing all he had for another. Everything he possessed, he would have happily traded if his boy wanted for anything

For a time the truck was quiet, the companionable silence broken only by the rattling of the air conditioning. He should have brought a cassette, Tex thought. The road stretched before them, a straight flat line of crumbling old pavement flanked by orange and gold desert on one each side, dotted with the occasional shrub. It was a delightful no-man’s-land, which was why he had settled there in the first place. They were far removed from everyone and everything. Getting to the garrison was a hassle. Two hours was a decent length trip, though it did give them the excuse to stop in town and get groceries while they were out and about. If his son behaved, he might even treat them to dinner at Ern's. 

He glanced to Keith, slouched against the door, legs propped on the dashboard, one hand dangling out the window. The boy's face was wary and pinched, a great change from the happy expression he had worn that morning when climbing into the truck and honking the horn at him, demanding he hurry up. His son would wait for no man, not even his father, desperately brewing a cup of coffee.

"You tired?"

Keith shrugged, making a soft, noncommittal sound.

"Why doncha take a nap, son? We still have some time on the road. You'll wanna be at your peak today."

A beat of silence passed.

"Do you think I can do it?"

Ah. He had wondered if they would be having this talk. It was a little later than expected, but Tex was prepared. "Son, you have nothing to worry about. You'll pass their little test without a hitch."

"But how can you be sure?" Keith asked earnestly. Of course his father would say something inspirational and trite--he had to. Fatherly encouragement didn't help him face the potential reality that he was not as good as he thought he was, that he was mediocre at best, that all the other potential students would not only out perform him, but ridicule him for his ineptitude. If there was a chance of failure, he needed to be braced for it.

His father chuckled, casting an affectionate eye on him. "Keith, you have a unique childhood, that much I can't deny, but ever since you were able to stand, you've been running amuck. There ain't no track course that you won't be able to smash through. Running, jumping, climbing--you do that every day. Those city kids only know flattop and lawns. You've been training for this day since you were a babe, you just didn't know it. Trust me, you're ready and you will do amazing."

That still sounded like parental drivel to Keith, but he only hummed and turned his gaze out the window. A hawk was flying high overhead, circling the truck. 

“What if they don’t think I can do it because I’m a---I’m omega?”

Tex laughed. “First off, omegas are known to be faster and more wily than their alpha and beta counterparts, so they’d be stupid to make any assumptions about your physical capabilities. What you may lack in strength you make up for in cunning. ‘Member when you caught that coyote when you were just six? And Second, if anyone did make such a stupid assumption about you, then they’ll be knocked on their ass when they see how good you are. I raised ya as best I knew how; yer probably more alpha than any alpha at that school.”

Finally a smile formed on Keith’s lips, but it vanished quickly as a new thought came to him. "What if they don't like me because of--" _you_.

The accusation hung in the air, unspoken but very much felt. Tex grimaced at the road. The fear had crossed his mind as well. "Well, regardless of how they feel about me, it ain't legal for them to punish you for it. They are legally obligated to give you a fair chance to prove your worth."

"Legal obligation never stopped anyone, dad."

Very true; he knew that better than most. His son did not need that discouragement. He did not respond and instead reached to turn on the radio.


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sudden death round. That did not sound promising to Keith, but he liked a good challenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's dadverse time! I have completely and utterly fallen in love with Dad Kogane and my life will be complete when he gets the love and fan art that he deserves. He is a good man! I hope the Voltron fandom loves dad as much as I do. 
> 
> Anyway, we have a LOT of fun in store. And, hey, some familiar faces make a cameo!

The gates of the garrison loomed before them like a foreboding beast, daring them to come closer, threatening to swallow them whole should they proceed. It looked far more garish and clinical than Tex recalled, the pleasant clay colored bricks of his youth replaced with whitewashed concrete and metal. Over the course of twenty some odd years, he had expected the school to change, but the place he knew had gotten more than just a makeover. It had received an all out face lift. There was hardly a building left standing that he recognized.

Keith pressed his hands to the truck window, peering out in rapture. He had never seen anything like this place. That was not a difficult feat, given that he very rarely left the vicinity of their small town. Everything looked bright and new; no rust, no broken boards, no crumbling foundations. Everything was immaculate. He had stumbled upon a grand oasis of promise with shining spires and glittering halls. 

"This is so cool."

Tex glanced at his son, a sad smile on his face, seeing how mesmerized the boy was. There was no question then--this was where Keith wanted to be. It was time for him to start letting go. He listened to his son babble excitedly, circling around the lots of pavement towards the test site, trying not to think how difficult it would be the day he had to leave his only child here, alone, far out of his protective reach.

A plethora of signs and students with volunteer shirts pointed them in the direction of the stadium where the test would take place. That was new as well; Tex remembered the tiny football field the school had once used for its outdoor activities, surrounded by a weak chain-link fence that the students had used to hop when sneaking out. Many a night, he and his classmates had sprung over the fence and disappeared into the desert for some good old fashioned debauchery. That no longer seemed to be possible and, now a father, he was immensely grateful for the stadium upgrade. The field had been vastly expanded and was circled by a ten foot wall of brick and mortar. No jumping over that, he thought, pleased. 

He had barely had the truck parked before Keith leaped out, slamming onto the pavement and looking for a split second like he might dart off in any direction, ever the curious one. It was a phase his son had never grown out of. Fortunately, a stern call of his name checked his son and he waited patiently for his father to climb out of the truck and join him. 

"Looks a hell of a lot different than when I was here." Tex commented, taking a moment to drink it all in.

Keith circled the truck, eyeing everything and searing it into his memory before going to his father's side. "What is that rank, awful smell?"

There was hope yet of keeping his son; his father laughed.

"That, Keith, is the smell of over a hundred alphas."

Keith wrinkled his nose, taking a delicate sniff before snorting unhappily. "Alphas really don't bathe."

Tex shrugged, putting an arm around his son's shoulders and steering him towards the sign-in table. "College boys are notorious for being...filthy."

"They smell worse than you, and you sweat all day."

"Are you saying your old man smells?"

Keith glanced up at him. "I'm saying even you don't smell as bad as these alphas."

"But yer saying I smell."

"No comment."

The slap to his back nearly sent him sprawling on the ground, but his father caught him before he could land face first on the pavement. Tex grimaced; his son was able, but his son was small. Keith was lithe and, although he wasn't exactly a light weight, he weighed nothing compared to the muscular young alphas he saw ambling around. The only way his son could fail that day was if he was checked by an alpha--which was a very real possibility. Alphas did not take kindly to upstart betas and omegas in competition, and Keith was nothing if not an abundantly confident upstart. 

The boy who signed him in looked at Keith in surprise, eyeing him up and down. What his assessment came to, they did not know, but Keith was beginning to worry again. As they plodded into the stadium and glanced at all of the other hopeful applicants, his spirits fell.

"I'm the smallest." Keith grumbled.

"I'm sure you aren't the only omega here."

"But I'm the smallest."

That was true; there were several slender hopefuls loitering about that Tex suspected were omega or beta, but his son was a head shorter than the smallest. 

"Victory doesn't go to the biggest, Keith. It goes to the smartest. If your opponent is bigger 'an you, you just keep out of their grasp until you find a way to bring 'em down. Brains over brawn."

He ruffled the boy's hair, but Keith's weak frown was not chased away. 

He knew that he needed to outsmart his opponents; it's what omegas did. His entire childhood had been spent out maneuvering his larger, faster father. The thought made Keith grin slightly, reminding him of days being chased all through the desert and extensive 'games' of hide and seek, where is father was reduced to a screaming mess, tearing the house apart as he searched for him, only to reappear when his father was no longer angry, but desperate to know he had not run away. He plopped down in the middle of the grass, feeling a little more confident--if not keenly aware of how much of a brat he was to his old man. If he could outrun his dad, he could outrun a bunch of kids. 

\------------

When an instructor appeared in full uniform, bellowing for all second tier applicants to present themselves at the starting line, Tex shooed his son off with an affectionate ruffle of the hair and retreated to the stands where the rest of the proud parents were situated. They were a telling crowd, dressed in pressed slacks and fancy summer dresses. Rich folk, many from out of town and state, he surmised. They were a somewhat surreal appearance in a drab military school, with their summer hats and sweater vests. He shook his head, groaning in distaste. Skirting around them, he made his way to the top of the bleachers, picking a good vantage. 

This physical test seemed more a mini triathlon than a test. From what Tex could see, the intending students would sprint a short distance, perform some basic military moves--rope climbing, mud trudging, monkey bars, swimming--then sprint some more. It as the most pathetic display he had seen; no doubt his boy would blow through it in an instant. When _he_ had undergone training, they spent full days in the hot sun, slaving on the rope course, rolling in mud, hiking through woods, and trying to keep their heads above roaring river rapids. There was never a session where a handful of students didn't faint from heat stroke, dehydration, or some other malady.

He should not judge too harshly, Tex told himself. Affiliated with the military as it was, the garrison was still a complete separate entity. The students were preparing for space exploration, not war. And they were just kids.

As said kids began to line up, preparing for the start of the test, Keith glanced over his shoulder, seeking his father's face in the crowd. Finding him, Tex offered a final reassuring wave. His little boy was going to be vastly disappointed that day. At least his regret would be because of the lack of challenge and not due to his own performance. That was a disappointment Keith would be able to live with. 

Keith turned from his father, listening as the instructor described the layout of the course and how they were to successfully complete each section. He listened intently, disappointed in how simplistic the course seemed, but he held hope that his competition would prove to be worth the trouble. As he took up his place in line, two hulking alphas stood on either side of him, glancing at him slyly. The course might not thrill him, but the sense of competition charged him with energy. He grinned back at them, wriggling his fingers and toes in anticipation. His body was humming, blood roaring in his ears.

When the shot rang out, signaling the beginning of the test, he sped ahead of them all, weaving between the massive bodies of the largest alphas, darting in front of the slower betas, picking between them one by one until he was at the head of the herd, leading the charge from the race track to the rope course.

Without hesitation, he leaped onto the nearest rope, climbing like a lemur to the top and swinging onto the platform. He was halfway across the wobbling rope bridge before he spared a glance back. ( _Don't ever look back_ ; he could hear his father's voice in his head). The first of his competitors was just reaching the end of the track. 

With his father's voice in his head, he wobbled his way through the remainder of the ropes and jumped right into the next portion--the mud pit. He quite literally jumped. There was no avoiding a mess, so why try? He was no ordinary omega, instinctively shy of dirt and filth. He was raised by an alpha, as an alpha, and was very much in his element, crawling through the mud, on his back, on his belly, wriggling like a dog. Dare he even think it; he was having fun. 

Crawling free of the mucky pit, he glanced back again ( _sorry, dad, can't help it_ ) and laughed at the sight of his peers grimacing as they attempted to wade, not swim, through the mud. _Suckers._ He took off then, belly flopping into the waiting pool and paddling onwards. He made a mental note to have his father teach him better swimming techniques, because paddling was not getting him very far. It was good then that he had such a respectable head start. 

He struggled out of the pool, his clothes and shoes seeping mud and water, but once he had his footing again he was up and running. The remainder of the course flew by in a blur of sprinting, hopping, and crawling. He slowed to a jog when approaching the finish line, twirling and jogging backwards so he could watch the rest of the participants labor after him. He should have trusted his father; he was the clear champion. 

When he crossed the finish line, he was walking, holding a steady, meandering pace that spoke volumes. He should not act so cocky, Keith thought. But oh well. He was the winner and he happily trotted over to the cooler of drinks and swallowed a bottle of water. 

As the remainder of the applicants crossed the finish line, the instructors recorded their time and general performance. Keith sat in the grass, watching each one of his fellow intending students. Some were running, barely out of breath, others were dragging their feet, huffing as if they were in terrible distress. He felt a touch of remorse for them; he could not conceive how they would survive the strenuous demands of the garrison if they could not handle a simple test of fitness. 

A volunteer handed out bottles of water and fruit once the exam was over, congratulating them all on a job well done. When the boy handed him an orange he paused, eyebrow raised, taking in Keith's scent. Keith knew what he was doing; the boy was sizing him up, perhaps surprised that an omega was the top contender for placement. He stared at the volunteer steadily, eye to eye like his father had taught him, daring him to utter a word. The boy did not. After handing Keith the fruit, he shuffled off, glancing back once or twice as he gossiped with other volunteers.

_Talk all ya want, suckers_ , he thought, ripping into the orange and eating it, rind and all. Several of the other competitors stared. 

Let them stare too. As far as he was concerned, he has the clear champion of the day.

\---------------------

"Hey!" Matt tugged hard on his sleeve, disrupting his balance enough that he nearly dropped the armload of books he was carrying.

After righting himself and readjusting his burden, Shiro turned to his friend, brow raised curiously. "What is it? I have to get these books to the TAs."

Matt grinned, pointing towards the stadium. A handful of their classmates were there as well, chortling among themselves as they discussed something. Apparently, everyone was taking a break from moving in. It gave Shiro hope that the suite he shared with Matt was no longer a clusterfuck of tools, pizza boxes, textbooks, and clothes strewn about in what to an untrained eye appeared to be random order that only a mad man could find a pattern in. 

Matt glanced at the books he carried and shook his head, tsking as if it were a great tragedy.

"It can wait; come and watch the annual run of the freshies with us."

Shiro groaned. He had no interest in watching the next batch of hopefuls struggle through the gauntlet of field tests. He had done his own time; he did not need to see anyone else muddle through it. He took a step towards the school, where the TAs were awaiting his return, when Matt added playfully,

"Iverson just announced the sudden death round. If we run, we can still make it in time."

He paused. The sudden death round, as the students affectionately termed it, was the real draw of watching the potential students. It was the moment when the top students of the incoming class presented themselves and when the poise and rigor of discipline gave way to pure anarchy. It was a delightful mess and they had never been disappointed in the carnage. Last year, three potentials had to be sent to the hospital. The year before, the top of the students had to literally barrel his way through the mass of bodies to the finish line. Shiro rolled his shoulder subconsciously, still feeling the occasional sting from his fractured collar. He had still won though, he thought with a slight smile. 

"Maybe I could watch for a few minutes."

They split the burden of the books among their lot, tucking one or two beneath each arm and taking off towards the stadium. When they skidded onto the scene, they dashed around the gaggle of onlooking parents and onto the bleachers, perching on the top row, awaiting the bloodshed.

\---------------

Everything was fair game, the instructor declared, short of throwing elbows or punches to the face. Tripping, kicking, tackling--it was all fair. The rules of this unexpected tournament left Keith a tad nervous. He wasn't afraid of a hard fall or a bruise, but he had also never been in a situation where over a dozen other people were given free reign to pummel him, if they felt so inclined. 

He glanced to his father on the bleachers, sharing a worried look. Tex appeared as surprised as he. A part of Keith wondered if this were even legal, but he supposed the school would not risk legal ramifications for something as trite as a fitness test. It was probably written somewhere on that ten page release form he had signed that morning. He had signed his life and health away like an idiot. 

"Get ready!" the instructor bellowed, raising a whistle to his lips.

Keith got into stance. He dug his nails into his palms, thinking of what his father had said to him earlier. Just focus on staying out of their grasp. Just head for the finish line. He would be fine. 

The whistle blew and he was off like a shot, just as before. No one attempted to hinder him. In fact, it seemed very much like a normal race. Everyone was keeping their hands and feet to themselves. Perhaps people weren't as vicious as he thought they were.

He regretted that thought a moment later when he was about to overcome a broad backed alpha and claim the lead. Seeing him gaining, the older boy growled and reached for him, slamming a fist into his back and sending him toppling to the ground. He rolled several times, banging his shoulders and back against the ground hard enough to steal his breath, but he was otherwise alright. 

For a good several seconds Keith was overcome by shock. He had been outright attacked and despite knowing that there was a possibility of it coming, he had not actually expected it to happen. He had to wait a moment to gain his feet again as the herd of potentials thundered past, doing their best to avoid hitting him. At least he wasn't trampled, he thought. That would have been painful. But he was behind now, close to last place. It would be impossible to catch up. ...Unless he cheated. It wouldn't be cheating, really. They said _everything_ was legal.

Getting back to his feet, Keith did not bother dusting off the flakes of grass and mud he had picked up when his knees drove into the soft ground. What to do now? He could catch up with the herd and slip in, but getting back to the head of the crowd would be difficult. The fastest sprinters were already nearing the rope course and---

He had an idea. Grinning to himself, he took off, sprinting as hard and fast as his legs could carry him. His reappearance was met with several shocked gasps. 

_Everything is legal._ And if it wasn't...well, they did say it was just an additional test and would have no bearing on anyone's final test results. The risk was worth it. As they neared the rope platform, he veered slightly to the left, separating himself from the group, and leaped not for the ropes, but for the support beam. He was not as strong as his alpha father, but Tex had taught him how to dig his fingers into pliant surfaces and hang on for dear life. He sank his nails into the wood, clinging as he wrapped his legs around the base and shimmied up. Splinters of wood gathered beneath his nails, but he ignored it. As soon as he was at the top, he swung his body onto the top of the latticework of beams and started jumping from one crossbeam to the next.

Below him, the others were struggling through the ropes. Some glanced up at him incredulously, one even demanded to know what he was doing. _No time_ ; he made it across the rope course in a mere minute, gaining pace over the herd. There were still a number of students to surpass, but he was quickly gaining. 

\--------------------

Tex chuckled to himself, watching his son scale the side of the rope course, bypassing the test entirely. He was not sure just what this last round of antics was about, but if Keith saw fit to branch off from the crowd and monkey his way over the equipment instead of through it, so be it. He trusted that his son knew what he was doing.

When Keith somersaulted from the top of the beam, grappling his way between beams of steel and wood, he landed perfectly on the ground. A group of boys rushed to stop before colliding with him. Keith watched them with a smug grin as they collapsed to the ground in a heap, yelling and cursing at him.

That was that. His son had made it to the head of the herd and completed the last bit of test with a cocky little skip. Normally, he wouldn't condone displays of pride, but after watching his son get body slammed to the ground, he felt Keith was entitled.

He sank back onto the bleacher, relieved. He had held no doubt that his son would pass the physical exam with flying colors....but he was still immensely grateful to have seen Keith not only meet every expectation set for him, but to surpass them. He would not be surprised if his son had set a number of new records that day. 

He waited a moment for the instructors to finish whatever B.S. spiel they had before descending to collect his son. As soon as they were dismissed, Keith bounded over, smiling ear to ear, eyes shining brightly and confidently. 

"What was all that about?" he asked, ruffling the boy's hair.

Keith keened happily, nuzzling into his palm. "Dunno. They said it wouldn't effect our test scores. It was a quick thinking exercise."

It was a trick was what it was, Tex thought. After his son divulged the specific details of just what the instructors had said about the final lap, he was suspicious. It had not been a test of physical ability, but of character. They wanted to know who would maintain a virtuous path and who would cut down others to secure a victory. They wanted to see who could think outside of the box and who would stick to the hamster wheel. He should have suspected something so underhanded.

He stroked a thumb across a spot of blood on Keith's chin. "I'm proud of ya, son."

"I did good, right?"

"I think you dropped everyone else in a dumpster, you were so good."

\--------------------

An elbow dug into his side, but Shiro could not concentrate on what his friend was saying. He stared in wonder as the small student--the obvious victor of the day--ran over to a man who he assumed was his father. He watched the boy smile and laugh, breaking into a spontaneous dance of joy for a moment before grabbing the man's arm and tugging. He was a ball of energy, Shiro thought. He would perform well at the garrison. 

"Shiro. Earth to Shiro. You're staring!"

At last Matt was able to gain his attention. "Sorry, what?"

His friend was grinning mischievously. "Oooh, I see, Shiro."

He sniffed indignantly. "See _what_?"

"Perhaps I should say, I smell. I smell _you_. I smell you getting all hot and bothered by that--"

"Absolutely not!"

He refused to hear a word of it. Fighting against a wash of heat rising to his face, he grabbed the books from his friends and began ambling towards the school. At his back, he heard Matt and the others catcalling, making lewd suggestions of his affections and what he would and could do once school began and the potential cadet was within his grasp.

Try as he might, Shiro could not help but consider some of their suggestions. When he finally made it to the TAs with the promised materials, his cheeks and ears were burning a bright scarlet.


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of dreams (how we all felt about college)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! I'm so glad everyone seems to be enjoying this fic! Updates are pretty slow as I'm working on my main fic 'The Alpha Hunter' and that one always gets precedence. I still love this fic so much because dad Kogane is best Kogane and this world turned out so sweet. 
> 
> But, if you ever get bored, you can hop by my tumblr and search the 'dadverse' tag. I have a whole bunch of ficlets, text posts, etc. (tumblr is the same username: kittypox). 
> 
> Enjoy!

"It was kind of pathetic." Keith laughed, leaning his elbows on the counter of Ern's deli. 

After yet another trying set of tests, Tex had promised to reward him with dinner from Ern's deli, Tibby's Chicken Hut. Considering the day he had, Keith was happy to stop and roam through the bins of fried and marinated chicken pieces, packing away a week's worth of food while his father perused the jars of preserved vegetables. He paused a moment to pet the chickens soaking in their sauce baths before wandering over to the man behind the counter, recounting his trials. 

Ern regarded him with a fond smile, listening intently as he retold the events of the last three days of testing he had undergone at the garrison. His last tale featured the anti-gravity chamber and the group of intending students who had passed the physical exam to proceed to the final round of mental testing. 

"And they just had ya sit there?" Ern asked, mincing a chicken breast between laughs. 

Keith nodded, still grinning. "For thirty minutes. I don't know why people started to get all squirrely. I just floated in my corner and zoned out."

"You would. You have self-discipline. Yer not like those spoiled city kids who need entertainment every waking second, with their ipads and pods and--whatever it is kids do now a days."

"Dad doesn't even let me have a cell phone, so don't ask me."

"Oh, yeah? What's that little blue and green thing I see with you then?"

Keith glanced to his pocket, eyeing the tiny trac phone. That was not a cell phone, he thought. That was a primitive communication device that allowed his father to keep tabs on him at all times. He supposed it wasn't a great loss, not having a _real_ cell phone like all the other kids; there was a grand total of seven cell towers in the town and with how far their house was from town, he wouldn't be able to do much with one anyway. Even getting cable out there was a hassle. What would he do with internet access anyway? Probably see what all the fuss was about cat videos, he supposed. 

He looked to Ern, finding him staring back with a smug grin. 

"Anyway, like three kids went ballistic. The instructors actually had to come in and get them, they were freaking out so bad."

"Well, they're probably cut." Ern murmured, using the edge of his knife to move the chunk of chicken aside. "Back in my day--when yer dad and I were at the garrison--you had to have a sharp mind. If you let them see even a crack, you were grounded. No flight simulations, no practicals, no piloting ever."

That made sense in Keith's mind; if you couldn't handle a thirty minute test module, how could you be expected to handle a three year space mission? Most of the hopefuls had seemed poised. For the first five or so minutes, many were swimming through the air and laughing as they performed acrobats they would have otherwise been unable to perform. For his part, he almost fell asleep, shutting his eyes and letting himself drift away until a screeching bell rang, warning them that the simulation was over and they better make their way to the bottom of the chamber so they didn't go crashing to the floor when gravity was switched back on. 

Keith opened his mouth to recount another story, this one of the pressure tank, when his father walked over, grabbing his hips and forcing them towards the counter.

"Hips _in_ , Keith; ya ain't on display here."

Keith growled softly, righting his posture. He hadn't even noticed he was slouching, doubled over the counter with his hips thrust back. He supposed it _was_ a welcoming pose, but in his opinion his father was making a big deal out of nothing. No one in their right mind would even risk staring, much less approaching, with Tex hovering so close by. 

"There's a term for you, dad."

"There is." Tex agreed, "It's father of the year."

"It's called helicopter parenting."

Ern chuckled, turning his head away respectfully as Tex swatted his son playfully and ordered him to the truck. With a halfhearted wave goodbye, Keith disappeared, grumbling about something or other before Tex sighed.

"Ya got a good kid there, Tex. Don't give him too much grief."

"I ain't trying to give him grief," Tex muttered, glancing back to make sure his son had crawled into the truck as commanded, "but he needs to learn to pay attention to what he does. He can growl and moan and slouch provocatively as much as he wants when he's at home. No one there to bother him. But if he does that when he goes to school..."

He trailed off, trying not to panic at the thought of aggressive alpha boys pawing at his son. There would be interested parties, no matter what path Keith decided to take, no matter where he ended up. Omegas always attracted attention. If his son didn't learn quickly how to handle himself among a hoard of people, he would be in for a rude awakening. A painful, dark awakening.

Tex shuddered.

Clearing his throat, Ern passed over the bag of take-out and went to the register. "So, when does he find out if he got in? You've taken him up to the garrison 'bout five times for those tests, haven't ya? That's gotta mean something."

Tex shook his head, chasing away the choking visions of his son being heinously gang raped and thinking instead of how well his son had been performing. "He's passed every single one of their little tests. We better hear soon; most kids already know where they're going for college. He can't put off the decision too much longer or else he won't even get into state."

As guilty as he felt admitting it, a considerable part of Tex wished that his son would be rejected from the garrison. His own memories of the place were tainted, forever tarnished by his own washing out. Regardless of his own failings, he knew what that place truly was. It was a mill, interested only in churning out the best of the best to compete in a space race. It was a factory, run by bureaucrats and politicians, and he did not want his son to have anything to do with it. 

And yet, it was the only path to the stars. Whether he wished it or not, his son was drawn by the call of space, just as he had been. He could not deny Keith the opportunity to heed the siren song. 

He sighed, passing his friend a wad of bills and scooping up the bags of chicken. "Should hear this week or next. Have to start preparing. No doubt he'll get in."

"No doubt." Ern echoed. "Lemme know all the same. I'll help buy his school supplies."

"You'll do no such thing."

"My god-kid." Ern said firmly, as if it were the simplest explanation in the world. "I do what I want fer him."

Lord, Tex hoped he wouldn't be having this similar conversation with half the town. He could handle this on his own. Still, he was already expecting to wake each morning to find notebooks and pens sitting on their porch. He should be happy that he had such good friends, that the neighbors felt such responsibility and pride in Keith, especially given how expensive the garrison would be. When he had been a student, he had gotten reduced tuition due to his father's military background. There would be no such tuition break for Keith, not with his background. He tried not to think on the final price tag.

Shaking his head, he offered Ern a salute and went to the truck, dropping the bags of chicken in his son's lap.

\-------------------------

The following week was a difficult one for Keith, partially due to his unrest, waiting for an acceptance letter from the garrison, mostly due to his heat. It was going to be a bad one, he knew; any time he woke in the middle of the night to cramps was a sign of bad days to come. Pain he could live with, but the constant, unrelenting pressure on his bladder was torture. Back and forth he went, padding in the dark between his bedroom and the bathroom, occasionally pausing in the kitchen to nibble on the stale cookies his father had left out. 

Tex popped his head out of his bedroom once, eyes bloodshot and lids dropping. 

"Son, what are you doing?"

He was peeing every fifteen minutes, what did his dad think he was doing? As answer, he groaned weakly and gestured halfheartedly to his belly. That was explanation enough for his father and the man returned to bed. 

After trying several times to return to sleep and failing miserably, Keith slipped outside to take a few turns around the house. Stepping onto the porch, the cold air struck him like a slap to the face. Briefly, he considered going back inside and grabbing his father's jacket, but he was restless. The cold air might do some good; if he got nice and cold, his body might be tricked into staying in his cozy bed. 

_Doubt it_ , he thought glumly, stepping off the worn boards of the porch and onto the soft sand. He skirted around the patches of gravel his father had laid as a driveway, toeing at the clay colored sand. Every so often he could step on a patch of scraggly grass and hiss at the dry sharpness to it, but it was a minor pain, easily overlooked in his pursuit of exhaustion. 

Exhaustion, sadly, was not coming. At five o'clock he was still outside, slumped over his knees on the porch steps, watching as the first golden rays of dawn broke the sky. There was some shuffling in the house as his father woke and began preparing for the day. He heard the shower start running and then, minutes later, there was clattering in the kitchen. 

Keith did not look up when the screen door squeaked open. His father's jacket fell heavily onto his shoulders and he keened softly, pulling it on.

"Bad night?" his father asked, stroking a hand through his hair.

Keith leaned into the gentle touch, finally feeling the beginnings of fatigue. "Yup."

"I have some pills you could take."

"You have sleeping pills?"

Tex snorted, rubbing his thumb along the crest of his son's forehead. "When you have kids there are always two types of pills in the house: caffeine pills and sleeping pills. Those should help ya get to bed."

That surprised Keith some. He knew about the stash of caffeine pills; his father was always sipping coffee or taking pills for his late work shifts. He supposed it made sense to have sleeping aids in the house as well; his father had a very odd work schedule. Sleep was essential to functioning well. 

"I'm fine." he murmured after a pause.

"Well, come in the house. You've been out here all night and you're cold as ice."

He did not feel that cold, but Keith did not feel like fighting with his father. With a small yawn, he got to his feet and followed the man into the house, hugging the jacket close. When it came to alpha smells, he had come across a hundred that smelled far more favorable than his father's (which was to be expected as he was looking for mate, not family), but there was something soothing about his father's smell all the same. Keith supposed it was some hang-on from his childhood, when just the smell of his alpha father could calm his fears and lull him to sleep. The effect of Tex's scent was not as potent as it once had been, but it was still balming and Keith wandered back to his bedroom, curling up with his father's jacket. 

An hour or so later, Tex came into his room, brushing through his hair and keening at him.

"I'm not a baby, dad..."

Tex snorted. "You'll always be my baby. You gonna be okay on yer own today? I got a lot of work to do and won't be back until late."

Keith rolled his eyes beneath his lids. "I'll be fine, dad. I'm just going to sleep it off."

"If you need anything, call Ern. He'll come right over."

"I won't need Ern."

"But if you _do_."

Keith groaned. There were days he wished that his father had more children. If he had a younger sibling or two, maybe the man would not hassle him so much. Of course, if his younger siblings chanced to be alphas or betas, he would still be the focus of the man's attention. Alpha parents, he had come to the conclusion, were paranoid when it came to their omega children. It did not matter how old said children were. 

Tex left without his jacket, putting together a quick meal and storing it in the freezer for when Keith got hungry. No matter what his son said, he was certain that Keith would be calling Ern. Even if he did not need anything, Keith would get hungry. When Keith's heat hit, the boy became a black hole. His appetite was damn near insatiable and very little would satisfy his cravings. Tibby's had become synonymous with heat, though he did not tell Ern as such. He suspected Ern knew all the same. When he suddenly came into the deli, buying up seven buckets of chicken at a time, the reason was fairly obvious. Bless the man for never making comment on it. 

"Don't go running off, son." he called from the door.

Keith moaned loudly before screeching, "I haven't done that in years!"

\-----------------

There were a surprising number of positive things associated with living far out in the desert, the closest house a mile away, the town proper three miles away. Solitude. No light pollution.Silence. All good things to have--especially when heat hit and Keith wanted nothing more than to run through the desert, feeling the warm sun on his bare skin and to go skinny dipping in the lake. The downside was that getting anywhere was a chore. Even more so when there wasn't a car to be had.

Keith sighed, plodding along the gravel trail, feet dragging now and then. Half past three and he was still groggy, having only been able to steal a handful of hours of sleep. Walking into town in his condition was a bad idea, or so his father said, but fresh air was good for him. When Tex came home and found out that he had been outside he would probably throw a fit, but at least Keith thought it would give him leverage to ask again for permission to ride one of the bikes into town. How could he force his poor heat-stricken son to walk such a distance in his delicate condition? Keith thought that he ought to feel bad for manipulating his father the way he did, but Tex had made that monster; he had to live with it. 

Despite his father's fears of kidnapping, Keith knew he was safe. Only a few people threw him strange glances as he made his way into town. It was not so unusual to see him trudging about in heat. His scent might have been somewhat potent and insulting, but no one ever made mention of it. He supposed that was likely his father's influence. Tex had been an overbearing alpha father since he was born and that protective nature had not abated. From childhood, he could recall his father scowling and growling warnings at many a people. Really, it was amazing that he had been properly socialized with how often Tex was pulling him away from others. There was one benefit of people not harassing him for fear of offending his alpha father: every time he visited town, it was peaceful. 

When he walked into the post office, the desk clerk glanced at him, busy sorting through the latest bin of mail.

"Afternoon, Kogane."

Keith waved weakly. "Hey, Billy. Do ya have our mail yet? Dad's expecting some letters." So was he, but Billy the loud mouth didn't need to know that.

"Gimme a sec; I'll get it ready for you."

He loitered for a moment, taking a turn around the cramped space, eyes scanning the names on the post boxes lining the wall. So many names and yet there were so few families left in town. He remembered some of the old names, people who had since moved away or, more often, died. 

It struck Keith how odd it was to find himself in such a small town. There were plenty of small towns in rural America, but this town, this town was a death trap. Those who wandered in hardly ever made it out. It was a deadly beacon for ex-military men, with no notion of what to do with themselves or where to go. The only reason Tex had ended up there, or so Keith believed, was because his best friend Ern had been born and raised in the tiny town and, with no idea what to do with himself, Tex had followed his friend and planted roots. 

Keith stood in front of the post box with their surname and stared. He could see this place claiming his father as another victim. In another forty years Tex would still be there, hobbling into town while leaning on a cane, gathering his mail like all the other ancient town folk. The greatest years of the man's life would pass in obscurity, his skin withering, color draining from his hair, eyes going dark and blind. 

Keith shuddered, turning away from the box and wandering to the desk of envelopes and stamps. He considered briefly purchasing some supplies, but he laughed at the idea a second later. Who would he write to? 

"Here ya go." Billy announced, waving a thick pack of letters at him. 

There was a large manila envelope included which drew Keith's attention immediately. He honed in on the Galaxy Garrison logo stamped in the corner of the envelope and felt his heart stop. Snatching it from the boy's hands, he tore the envelope open and dump the contents into his hands. There was a good deal of paperwork; he grabbed for the top sheet and scanned it frantically.

_We are happy to inform you that your application has been accepted_

The only thing keeping Keith from screaming his lungs out in triumph was his exhaustion. Had he not been fighting the tide of sleeplessness and fatigue from his heat, he would have been bouncing off the walls. The garrison--he had been approved. He was really going. All his life he had heard his father talk about his adventures there and prayed for the day when he could follow in the man's footsteps. And now that day was there. He was going...his father was going to be so proud of him.

Keening happily, he thumbed through the remainder of the papers. There was a good deal of legal jargon that he would need his father's help deciphering, but he forgot that when he came across the orientation schedule, pamphlet of class descriptions and--- he paused at an ominous blue sheet. 

All of his prior joy vanished as he read through the blue sheet: a tuition bill. He blinked as his eyes traveled down the page. General tuition, room and board, meal plan, insurance coverage... Were these standard fees for college, he wondered. Fees for facility usage, for mechanical equipment usage, for this, for that, for every conceivable and inconceivable need he could have. When he landed on the final number for tuition his heart stopped once more.

For a long while Keith stood in the center of the post office, staring at the tuition sheet. He had been utterly dumbstruck, unable to move or think; clarity came back slowly, his thoughts spreading like ink on wet paper. How could he come up with such money? Where was all of this money going to? That fee didn't even cover the books and personal items he would need to purchase for school. This was only one year's worth of tuition! 

He slammed the packet of papers onto the counter, running a trembling hand through his hair. This was utterly ridiculous. There was no way--

"Everything alright?" Billy asked, maintaining a safe distance. "Ya look upset."

Keith glanced at him, fighting to keep his expression in check. "I'm fine, thanks."

He was so far from alright, Keith did not know how Billy could just stand there mutely and carry on with work. His dreams, his hopes, everything he had worked so hard for were coming undone. What he had once perceived as possible, obtainable with nothing more than a good work ethic and the smarts he had, was now so far out of his reach Keith could not believe he had once thought that he could reach for the stars and actually land there. What an utter fool he had been. 

Keith glanced back at their family post box and felt his lips quiver. Taking a gulping breath, he crumpled the blue sheet and threw it into the trash bin with the remainder of the papers from the garrison. He could not even risk bringing the envelope home, lest his father find it and ask. 

At least he had gotten in, Keith tried to console himself as he stormed from the post office and began the long trek home. He tried not to think on how empty he felt or the occasional sting in his eyes as the reality of his lost dreams sunk in. Even if there was no way for him to attend the garrison, he had gotten in. He had passed every test they had thrown at him and came out the clear victor at each turn. He had that knowledge to console him.


	5. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tex would like a word with his son. Several words, really. Keith has some words of his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love dad Kogane. I am hopeful that we will see him in series (hopefully this coming season). Let Keith be spoiled by his loving family. Let dad bond with him. let Keith have one good thing lol
> 
> Seriously, come love dad Kogane with me
> 
> (short chapter, as next one will be long. Dad has business to tend to)

When Tex arrived home he wanted two things: a shower and breakfast. He had not intended to work a double shift, but the opportunity had presented itself and he took it. Opposed as he was to the idea of Keith spending the night alone, he knew that his son was safe. ...Just to be certain though, he had Ern drive by the place at ten PM and was informed that Keith was happily tucked in bed and fast asleep. For good measure, his friend promised to stay until he needed to open the deli at four the next morning--Ern was ever the dutiful god-father. What Keith didn't know wouldn't hurt his pride.

After pausing in the living room and kicking off his boots, he went to Keith's door and knocked. A tired voice called out, granting him permission to enter. Stepping in slowly, he found his son sitting in a cocoon of blankets on his bed, a book of physics in his lap, a calculator in hand. Keith glanced up at him, offering a weak smile

"Hey, dad."

"Feeling any better?"

Keith shrugged. "As good as can be expected, I guess." There was a towel beneath him at the moment, soaking up any stray slick that seeped out. As expected, it was a bad heat. Normally his pills prevented the worst of his leaking, but he had already seeped through his sheets and changed twice. Never a good sign when it was just pushing nine in the morning.

"How was work?" he asked, putting his book aside and trailing after his father into the kitchen. 

Tex offered a tired grunt, reaching for the can of coffee grounds and going about making himself a strong cup of coffee. He must be getting old, he thought. Those late nights were killing him. Once upon a time all he needed was a cup or two of coffee, a flask of whiskey, and a decent supper and he would be set for a full night of work. Now, staying awake was a chore, made even more tedious by the fact that he was constantly worrying over his son. 

He was suddenly reminded of something

"You didn't answer my texts last night."

Keith hummed. "Didn't see them."

"Didn't see them." Tex echoed, skeptical.

"I was sleeping, dad. You know I like to sleep when I'm in heat. I was out from 8 o'clock to 7 this morning."

It was a believable story. 

Breakfast was a minimal affair of dry cereal and stale toast spread with honey. Keith watched his father sip his coffee, dark bags beneath his eyes, and barely enough energy to hold a conversation. That was fine by him; he was equally as tired and in no mood to talk himself. His spirits were still low and he had picked up his physics book out of boredom. Every equation he completed was like a stab in the heart, reminding him of the future he would never have. Why bother studying any longer? 

Tex cleared his throat suddenly. "What did ya do yesterday?"

Keith looked up, pushing aside unpleasant memories. "Nothing much. Wandered around for awhile. Took a nap. Like I said, I slept a lot."

"Hn. You go into town?"

"Nope, too tired."

"Really?" Tex raised an eyebrow before reaching into the folds of his jacket and slamming down a rolled up packet of papers. "Then why did Billy tell me that he saw you yesterday?"

The ominous blue sheet sat at the top of the pile of papers, unfurled, taunting him. 

Keith glowered at it. "Fucking god damn Billy the twat."

" _Language!_ "

He flinched. "...Sorry, sir."

"Explain, Keith."

"Where did you even get those, dad?"

"I stopped at the post office on my way home from work, thinking I would pick up the mail. Imagine my surprise when Billy said that you had come in yesterday and had gotten upset over some mail you received and then threw it away. He couldn't legally fish it out of the bin, but he _could_ tell me where you threw it. Imagine my even greater surprise to find your garrison acceptance papers in the trash." He eyed his son, taking in his hunched shoulders and pinched expression. "You've been dreaming about that place since you were six. What gives?"

Where to even begin.... Keith eyed the papers, refusing to touch them, refusing to even stare at them too long. He didn't need the reminder of all that had slipped through his fingers. He had been accepted. He still had that victory. It was enough. Feigning nonchalance, he turned his head to stare out the window.

"I decided I want to join the military instead."

"Didja now?"

"Yup."

Tex stared a moment. "That's a crock of shit and I don't appreciate you lyin' to me, son."

Damn his father for being so astute. He could never pull a fast one on the old man. Manipulation he was good at. Lying, not so much. 

"What does it matter, dad? It was a stupid pipedream."

"A pipedream? So you spent the last twelve years studying your ass off, learning to drive and fly, and memorizing constellations and stars for nothing?" Keith shrugged. "Stop bullshitting me and tell me what's wrong, Keith. I hate the garrison, but I hate you giving up on your dreams even more. What--"

"Because it's unrealistic, dad!" 

"How? You're the most qualified applicant they had."

"Because--because--" Keith huffed angrily, grabbing the blue sheet and shoving it in his father's face. "This, dad!" He tapped at the bottom line of tuition cost. "This is why it's unrealistic!"

Tex leaned back, eyeing the paper before taking it from his son's hands. He had not properly looked at it that morning, after fishing it from the bin, too interested in getting home and rooting out the reason the papers ended up in the trash. He could see why Keith was upset; tuition had skyrocketed. That was more money than he could even comprehend. 

He cast the paper aside and took another sip of coffee. "So?"

Keith's mouth fell open. " _So_?"

"Yer going to a school for astronauts, not state college; what didja expect?"

"I'm _not_ going to a school for astronauts, I'm joining the military."

Ooh, he had taught his son well. Keith argued like an alpha. Under normal circumstances, Tex would be amused. Even when his son was mouthing off to him, he felt a tingle of pride. Not then. 

"Keith. Answer my questions. _Now_."

His son glowered, shivering at the tone. "What?"

"Why are you refusing to go to school?"

"Because you can't afford it, dad!" 

"Let me worry about that."

"I said I'm not going!"

He stormed away, hoping to end the conversation there, not caring that he was acting like a five year old and that his father would retaliate and treat him as such later. _Just let the topic die_ , he begged silently. He threw himself into bed and pulled the covers over his head, willing himself to sleep. If he could just get some sleep, he would be fine. He would not feel the loss so acutely when he woke, well rested. Everything would be fine, he chanted in his head. 

The door to his room opened with a soft hiss a minute later and the bed dipped as his father sat. Keith braced himself for a fierce reprimand or punishment. Instead, he felt his father's hand run up and down the length of his legs soothingly. A soft whine escaped his throat unintentionally. 

"Come on now." Tex murmured, his voice gentle and soothing. He pulled the blanket from Keith's face. "Let's talk about this, man to man."

Keith huffed, his eyes feeling wet. "Okay..." He sat up with a sigh, allowing his father to stroke his hair encouragingly.

"Alright, so tell me what's wrong. Why don't you want to go to school?"

Keith groaned. "It's too expensive, dad."

"I told you to let me worry about that. What else?"

He shook his head. "Dad, no. It's not realistic." 

His father stared at him a long moment, waiting for him to continue. Keith didn't want this conversation to get so deep, but his father would not settle for anything less than the whole truth. It was going to be uncomfortable. He braced himself, hating that he had to say these things to his father who did all he could to provide for him. 

"I know we're poor dad." he started, eyes flicking to the man's face guiltily. "Do you think I don't see when your card gets declined at the grocery store? You think I don't notice that Ern and the neighbors give us free food all the time? I know you don't have a steady job; you get crappy repair commissions that don't pay you enough to feed us. How can you possibly afford a school whose yearly tuition is over three hundred thousand dollars?!"

"Keith--"

"I'm not going to be the reason that you go broke and we get forced on the streets! I can't do that to you!"

Tex stared at his boy for a long moment, hurting for his child. He did not think that this was normal. Were children typically so attuned to their parents problems? Of course his son noticed all the small things; he had trained Keith to pay attention, to look for what others did not see. A pang of guilt struck his heart; he had not shielded his son enough from the unpleasant truth of their financial circumstances. Not that it was difficult to see, with their battered couch spilling its stuffing and their tables held steady with bricks or wads of newspaper beneath the legs. 

"Son," he said slowly, taking Keith's face in both hands, "my financial problems are not your concern. It's my job to take care of you, not the other way around. It's my job to make sure you have the best and brightest future that you can have. More importantly, it's my job to make sure that you're happy. What you want, I will give you."

Keith tried to pull away, but his father held firm. "Dad, you can't--"

"I can and I will. I'll call the financial aid office tomorrow morning and harass them. We'll get you in there for a sliver of the cost."

_That's not how it works_ , Keith wanted to protest. He had no doubt that his father could kick up a fuss and make enough of a protest to gain some benefit, but it would never be enough. One year of even half tuition would cripple them forever, much less six or eight years of it. Even if he did make it through to graduation, unless he was snatched up for a job right away, they'd be buried in school debt and homeless in months. 

He lifted his eyes, finding his father staring at him steadily. 

"Tell me you'll go." Tex commanded.

Keith hesitated, trapped. "If you can get the price low enough..."

That was not the answer Tex wanted to hear, but he settled for it. For the moment. He hoped that he wasn't going to end up being _that_ dad who forced his kid out of the nest. He was already terrified of how bad he would react when Keith left for school (Ern laughed and swore he would be the worst empty-nester there ever was), and his son was making things infinitely more difficult by refusing to leave. He would be able to live happily with his son safe at home...but he knew Keith would never be able to live that way. His son had dreams. It was his job to make sure those dreams were obtainable. 

Leaning forward, he pressed his forehead to Keith's then nuzzled him gently. His son needed a good dose of dad smell to calm down. It was probably heat hormones making his boy so emotional, but he was not going to risk his son giving up his lifelong dream. All the same, he also had no intention of giving the Galaxy Garrison a cent more than he absolutely had to. They would take his son from him--that was gift enough to them.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FAFSA or death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, a lot has happened since last chapter. I had a birthday vacation, got sick, went to the hospital, season 3 happened, the paladin handbook came out. Lots of good stuff. No new dad sightings in the new season though. Tragic. Perhaps next season. 
> 
> Anyway, just for a story note, I made this up before the (still unconfirmed?) ages came out. Shiro is only 3 years older than Keith here. He's still a student. 
> 
> This was a long time coming, but for those of you who don't know, there are a ton of dadverse (AKA this story) ficlets and asks upon my tumble. Dadverse thrives there. Hit me up there if you want!

The door creaked slightly as Tex inched it open wide enough to allow him to peek in on his son. Keith was sprawled in bed, cheek pressed into the open pages of a textbook while his bare feet dangled over the end of the bed, tangled in his favorite blanket. Ever the hard worker. He smiled, gently closing the door before shuffling to the kitchen to brew a pot of strong coffee. There was still a slab of bacon in the deep-freeze, which he dug out and threw into a pan to start thawing. It was an uninspiring meal, but it was just enough to get the gears going. Tossing the dregs of the coffee into a thermos, he grabbed his jacket and returned to his son's room.

The gentle touch of fingers running through his hair woke Keith and he sat up with a curious keen, back popping in protest from the awkward position he had fallen asleep in. 

"Morning?" he yawned.

Tex chuckled, ruffling the boy's hair. "Morning. I have to head out to another job. Shouldn't be an allnighter this time; I'll be home around seven-ish." 

"Ok."

"There's bacon in the pan and a bucket of chicken in the freezer. That should tide you over, but if you need anything _call_ Ern. I don't want you wandering around while you're in heat, ya hear me?"

Keith rolled his eyes. It was too early for this, he thought, but nodded his head obediently, regardless. He was tired enough that he thought he might be able to obey his father's command. There was food in the house and piles of blankets. Those were all he needed for a happy, comfortable day enduring his heat pains. If he were feeling motivated, he might do laundry. He had an alarmingly high pile of slick-soaked clothes awaiting his attention.

"Ya need anything before I go?"

"No, dad."

"Ya want my jacket?"

"No, dad."

Tex snorted. "Alright, behave while I'm gone. I mean it."

"Yes, alpha father of mine. I will be a dutiful son and remain indoors." 

"Smart ass." 

He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to the boy's and nuzzled his scent in. Whether Keith needed it or not, whether he would say it or not, it made _him_ just a tad more comfortable, knowing his son was resting with the protective scent of his father guarding him. Keith did not protest, yawning tiredly and waiting for him to pull away before flopping bonelessly back into bed. 

He locked the door as he left for good measure. His son's heat had a stink that could call from miles away and, although he had trained his son well and there was a gun at hand--just for precautionary measures, of course--he did not want to risk some amorous alpha catching the boy's scent and wandering in. Keith might call him paranoid, but he preferred to call it practical preparedness. 

As he eased the truck down the driveway, his son's face appeared briefly in the living room window. A halfhearted wave bid him farewell and then the boy was gone, likely off to eat and then nap. Or so Tex hoped. There was a vaguely miserable look lingering in Keith's face and he intended on chasing that away. Whether his son believed him or not, he would sort the garrison out. He had no intention of forking over five hundred grand for tuition and he sure as hell was not about to sell a kidney, but he knew people. He had contacts. The question was, did they still think highly enough of him to do him a favor?

====================

The noon sun beat down on Tex's bare shoulders, a warm breeze tickling his sweat covered forehead. He sat on the garage stoop, shirt tossed haphazardly to the ground, nibbling on a sandwich that was too much lettuce and not enough meat. Next time, he decide, he would make his own lunch. None of the local shops could make a sandwich up to his standards.

With a sigh, he tossed the remains of his disappointing lunch into the trash and fumbled through his pockets for his phone. It had taken him two hours the night before to find the number for the garrison's financial aid office. If his son's future hadn't ridden on him finding that number, he would have quit after the first fifteen minutes of fruitless searching. As was, he was under the impression that the financial aid office was a well guarded secret, a place people heard of but had not ever actually been able to contact. It was legendary. Mythological. Damn it, that school wanted their money and if they had to hide the financial aid office in a bunker, Tex was sure they did. 

He had won the battle of wits though. Finally, after cussing out the computer, the school, the website, and every god known to him, he had found the number. He listened as the phone rang, rather proud of himself for being able to navigate the mess of a website...only to have his call forwarded to a machine operated message system.

_Don't get mad_ , he told himself, resisting the urge to growl and throw his phone at the wall. Be polite, courteous, request a call back. Do it for Keith.

He put on his best professional voice. "Hello, my name is Tex Kogane, I'm calling on behalf of my son, Keith Kogane, who just received his annual tuition bill. We are in need of some financial assistance with this bill, so I would appreciate a call back at your earliest convenience to discuss options."

He snapped the phone off after leaving his number and graciously thanking whoever had the privilege of receiving his message. "Fucking pricks."

============================

As it so happened, his message _had_ been received and forwarded to the appropriate party. Not a day later, his phone rang, rousing him from a solid sleep. Across the hall, he heard Keith groan unhappily, whining in heat-pain. Poor kid.

"Hello?" he murmured into the phone, expecting another call for maintenance work. He couldn't afford to turn down a job now. 

The voice that answered was professional--annoyingly so--first verifying whom they were speaking with before the man broke into a surreal, "Hey, man, it's Eddie!"

Tex pulled the phone from his ear, staring at the number on the screen. GALAXY GARRISON sat bold and proud on the caller ID. "Uh...ya got me, Eddie who?"

"Patterson! Eddie Patterson! You remember, Kogane; we were--"

"Christ, Eddie Patterson?" He hadn't thought of that punk in years. "What the hell are you doing at the garrison?"

The voice on the end of the line chuckled. "Working. As is, working on your son's case. I got your message. I was surprised to see your name, but as soon as I dug up your boy's file and saw his profile picture, I knew it was you. Your boy looks exactly like you, you know. A little scrawnier, but a spitting image."

Tex snorted. Same coloring maybe, but his boy had a far more delicate frame about him. Best he could recall, Tex thought it wasn't from the mother's side either. His lady had been strong, built like a warrior. Maybe Keith got it from his grandmother, that tiny, thin-boned witch of a woman. 

"Well, that's my boy." he said lamely. "So you have his file. You know that tuition bill is bullshit. I don't know how anyone has that money, but we sure as hell don't. You want a tax return to confirm that? We're just above the poverty level."

"Actually," the man's voice turned professional once more, "a copy of your tax return would be great. The last three years would be even better, to show that your income is consistently low."

Consistently low. Tex growled. "Right. Tax returns. What else? We're gonna need as much help as we can get, so anything he's eligible for, sign him up."

"Tax returns will do. Does his mom work too?"

"No mom. Just us."

"Even better. And you're rural; he'll probably count for part of the affirmative action program."

"Well, glad to know my son's unfortunate upbringing will benefit him in some way." He sat up, stretching and scratching at the stubble on his chin. "So now what? You need me to send that in? We have to get this sorted out quickly."

Eddie laughed nervously, uncertain how to respond at first. "Do you have time to meet? The process would go quicker if I can get all the needed information straight from you."

"Me and the boy?"

"Just you will do for now. You're the one with all the legal documents. Got your citizenship papers?"

"Green card."

There was a pause. "Still?"

"If I wanted to be a citizen, I would be. So tax returns, green card, and the boy's birth certificate. Anything else?"

"Property? Assets?"

He was going to be financially dissected. That damn school wanted every cent it could wring from him. Alas for them (he hesitated to say fortunately for him), he was as poor as he claimed. He prayed that would be enough to drop the tuition bill to something reasonable. It would still crush him, but one hundred grand was a better figure than five hundred grand. 

Anything for his son though. This is what Keith wanted and he saw how much potential the boy had. He wouldn't forgive himself if he didn't try everything in his power to give his son the stars. 

Tex sighed. "Got it. Name the time and I'll be there."

=====================

A sharp snap of fingers drew Shiro's attention from the list of materials he had been sent to gather for the biology instructor. He paused, list in hand, and stared at the man who had called for his attention. Clearly a visitor, he thought, taking in his roughed up appearance and soiled clothing. Parent, most likely. He appeared to be at his wits end, a frustrated look upon his face.

"Can I help you, sir?"

The man sighed. "God, I hope so. I'm twenty minutes late for a meeting with the financial aid department and I can't find the damn place. I'm starting to think it doesn't actually exist and I just hallucinated the call."

Shiro laughed. "You're actually not the first one I've heard say something like that. The financial aid department exists, it's just really hard to find."

"Let me guess, in a bunker where no one will find it so they can sit on all those loans until dooms day."

"Close; the basement."

"The basement." the man echoed, laughing bitterly in disbelief. "Of course. Mind pointing me in the right direction?"

"Gladly." 

He was happy for the distraction. Not that Shiro minded playing errand boy--it was what he had signed up for, as a summer TA. Even so, the constant back and forth from classrooms to lecture halls to supply closets, all in different buildings of course, tended to get tedious quite quickly. With an errant parent in dire need of assistance, he had a perfect excuse to disappear for a time.

They wound their way through the halls and down the stairwells in relative silence. Occasionally the man would mumble some remark that hinted he had, years ago, been a student at the garrison. Shiro tried not to wonder what had happened in the man's past; he certainly did not look like a pilot. Had he to guess, he would think a farmer or mechanic. There were grease stains all over the man's white shirt and pants. Perhaps he had been an engineer back in the day.

As they neared the well-hidden financial aid office, Shiro cleared his throat. "You look a bit familiar. Did you attend the school?"

The man scoffed. "Yup. Years ago."

That was all the information he was offered. As Shiro had suspected. Maybe he had seen the man's face on a placard or in an old yearbook. He pulled the office door open for his guest, standing aside while the man passed before following, intending to inform the proper secretary. In yet another confusing twist, the financial aid department was also housed with the course counselors and many people often got turned around and sent to the wrong people.

It seemed though this man was expected. Standing at the front counter was instructor Patterson, leaning his elbow on the counter as he spoke to the secretary. The man turned upon their entrance and Shiro jumped to salute.

"Sir--"

"Kogane!" Patterson looked past him, rushing forward to grab the man's hand and shake it enthusiastically. "Where the heck have you been?"

The man huffed, put off by the attention. "Got lost. Damn place is a maze."

"It is." Patterson agreed. Pulling back, he addressed Shiro. "At ease, cadet. Thank you for showing him the way."

Shiro nodded, dropping his hand. "Sir."

As he made his way back upstairs, on the hunt for twenty textbooks of decent condition, Shiro wondered who that man was and what his history with the garrison was. He was certain he had seen that face before. Even the name, Kogane, sounded vaguely familiar. If nothing else, he was important enough to send instructor Patterson into a tizzy of excitement. That was something. He would ask Matt and his father later that evening. Perhaps they could help him unravel the mystery.

===================

Patterson had his own office. It was a refurbished closet with no windows and could only afford one chair for company, lest the room become too cramped and no one could move, but it was an office. Tex was impressed. From what he recalled of Patterson, the boy hadn't been that capable a student. Book smart but lacking any type of street sense, not particularly skilled at flight or engineering. Perhaps that was why he was a part of the financial aid department. God willing, the man was much wiser than the boy.

"So, how the heck are you?" Patterson asked, shutting the door and dropping into his chair. "I haven't heard your name in over a decade! I had heard that you joined the military after..." he trailed off, jovial expression faltering.

"After I was punted?" Tex offered gruffly.

"That's one way of phrasing it. But you didn't stay in the military either?"

Tex growled. "Kicked out of there too. I'm not naive; I'm sure you've heard the story." Many of his military friends had ties with the garrison. He was certain the story had traveled far and wide, to the ears of many who had known him. 

"The alien thing?" Patterson raised an eyebrow, skeptical.

Tex had seen that look before. His entire unit had ridiculed him, thinking at first that he was playing yet another prank. When they had realized that he was serious, the mocking became unbearable. Brawls were a daily occurrence. Tex had not been surprised when he was sent packing. If his report of the incident hadn't been enough to cast doubts on his stability, then the constant fighting was. 

"Anyone who attended the garrison should be a little more accepting of the notion of aliens." he said flatly. 

Patterson's lips twitch, as if he were fighting not to smile. "Yeah, but...chasing an alien ship down, cornering an alien, getting into a gunfight with it and then...letting it go? Quite a story."

And she had been quite a beauty. Tex huffed. "If you knew half of what I saw--"

"What did you see?" Patterson leaned forward, grinning teasingly. "Did the aliens probe you?"

"Maybe I probed them!" This was absurd and growing more personal than Tex wished to admit. "Getting back to the point: my son. He was accepted for enrollment in the freshman class and sent a five hundred grand bill. We need to fix that or else he's going to take himself elsewhere."

Steering the topic of conversation back to Keith was enough to get Patterson off his case. With a small gesture, the man opened his desk drawer and pulled out a slim manila folder. A student profile, Tex thought, having seen his own student file many times when he was sent to the disciplinary offices. His file had been two inches thick and overflowing. His son would be different though, he was sure. Keith was a good boy...most of the time.

Patterson skimmed through the papers quickly, nodding absently. "Right. I have a copy of the bill here and some notes I took from our conversation. Did you bring the taxes?"

"And a copy of the federal poverty guidelines. In case you needed it." Tex smiled mockingly, slamming a packet of documents onto the desk. Five years of pitiful tax returns, the miserable estimate of value on their house, the value of his truck, and copies of his bank statements. All the proof he would need to show that there was no way in hell he was coming up with the sum of money they were asking.

He sat back and watched Patterson flip through each document, his expression slack in disbelief. How could one person be so poor, Tex was sure the man wondered. How could he be so poor and take care of a kid? Sometimes Tex wondered the same thing. He was no fool. If he did not have the aid of Ern, his military buddies, and the rest of the town, Keith would have been snatched up by child protective services years ago. He provided as best he could for his boy...though it never seemed like enough.

"Well?" he asked after several minutes. "That gonna be enough proof to cut the boy a break?"

Patterson looked at him, brows drawn. For a long moment he was silent. "You didn't cook these did you?"

"Cook?"

"These aren't bogus, right? These are legit?"

So poor it was literally unbelievable. Tex fought back a growl. "Yes, they are legit. Why the hell would I make that up?"

The other man held up his hands. "That's all I needed to hear. You got a few minutes? I asked you to come in today because the president of the financial aid department is in; I can get you an amended bill in about an hour or so. Does that work for you?"

He was eager to get this process over with and readily agreed. With an hour to kill, Tex found himself wandering around the halls once more, roaming familiar locations and rooting out his old calling card, scratched into the surface of several walls. He had left a mark on that school, literally and figuratively. He had no doubt his boy would do the same. Already Keith was a better pilot than some of the men from his air unit--thank you Avery for the free flight lessons. At Keith's age, the boy was a prodigy. And he would only get better with the proper training. Tex glowed with pride, thinking of how skilled Keith was. 

At the same time, he dreaded the day he would need to hand his son off. His child was growing, becoming a man. Keith was forging his own path and that path would take him far from home and his father. Of course the boy would love every moment of it. He had to let go some day. Tex knew that day was fast approaching, but he still loathed it.

He milled around the training yard for a time, watching the summer students sprinting this way and that across the field, mulling over the notion of solitude. He hadn't been alone in years. It had never bothered him before; before parenthood, he had lived alone since the age of nineteen and loved every free second of it. Becoming a father had changed that. He hadn't even had privacy in the bathroom, much less solitude. It had been a difficult transition. He knew it would be just as difficult transitioning back to being alone. Dare he think it, he might even feel lonely. 

======================== 

He fought back a flinch when Patterson handed him the amended tuition bill. He didn't really want to see it, but Tex needed to know what he was contending with. One of his kidneys might have to go. When his eyes landed on the new figure his heart sank. It was a vast improvement to what it was, but it was still more than he could come up with. 

"$75,000. Better, I suppose." He tried to keep the tremor of unhappiness from his tone. "What percentage discount is that?"

"Eighty five percent." Patterson said happily, oblivious to the man's dilemma. 

Eighty five percent and it was still too high. "How did you even swing this? Not that I'm complainin' mind ya, but that seems like an awfully high percentage cut."

"Well...we typically _don't_. But your son's case is different. He's the son of a former student. He's also the highest ranking enrollee we have; we want him here. His scores beat some of our fifth year students, and he hasn't even set foot in a flight simulator yet. You taught him to fly, didn't you? You had to."

Of course he had. Flying was his life, even kicked from the garrison and the military. They could not keep him out of the sky and he had passed his love on to his only child. He tried not to smile, thinking of past flights across the desert with Keith in his lap, squealing happily and grabbing eagerly for the gears. The boy was born to fly. And so he would. 

"You guys have loan options here?"

"Of course! And," Patterson reached across the desk, flipping the page over so that Tex could read the fine print. "If you read that, you'll see that if your son remains in good academic standing, after two years he'll be eligible for a ninety percent reduction. Good academic standing though. You know what that means here. No Cs or Ds. No skipping classes or not handing in assignments."

"Not a concern." He almost felt like whipping out one of Keith's report cards, displaying the straight As and glowing compliments from his teachers. That would likely come across as more passive aggressive than intended though. He was already known as the crazy alien guy, he didn't need to also be known as the overly attached parent. 

A pen was pushed under his nose. 

"Your son will have to sign too, but you may as well sign now. I'll send you off with the loan papers too; that way you can send them back together. No need to make an extra trip."

A logical thought. He took the pen, pausing a moment to read all of the fine print. All fees would be due if the boy dropped from academic standing, was removed from the course, or died. Tex almost questioned that one. His only child could die a horrible death and he would be mourning the passing of his son and still be expected to pay a tuition bill? He expected no less from the garrison.

"Why do I feel like I'm signing my soul away?" he grumbled, snatching the pen.

It was not his soul being signed away though, Tex realized as he drove home. It was his son. He had bartered away everything they had just so that his son could belong to the garrison. _It's what the boy wants_ , he repeated to himself the entire drive. What his boy wanted, he would get....even if Tex did not want it for him.


	7. chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goodbyes are always difficult...especially when you've never been parted from your child in the near 18 years of his young life. This is going to be hard for Tex...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG this chapter is long overdue. I got overwhelmed with my sister's wedding and work. Hopefully, with Alpha Hunter winding down, I can focus on this story a bit more often as well. Plus the fun stuff comes soon *cough* SHEITH *cough*

A single step into the house and Tex slipped, feet flying over his head before he crashed on his back with a harsh snap. For a brief moment the pain was all consuming and clouded his thoughts. Once his brain began functioning again, he could sense that the pain was surface; maybe he would bruise, but nothing had been broken. Even so...he was on his back.

"God damn it, boy!"

Keith's head popped up behind the counter as his father struggled upright, brows immediately knitting together in alarm.

"Oops...sorry, dad."

Tex huffed, scratching his nails against the floor. They slipped on the surface and he narrowed his eyes suspiciously, looking to Keith, who had a pair of bright yellow gloves pulled up to his elbows and a filthy sponge in hand. The mop was propped in the corner by the backdoor, but Tex caught the scent of pine and disinfectant. 

"Boy, how many times do I have to tell you: the floor does _not_ need waxing."

Keith frowned, getting up from where he was scrubbing at a grease stain, and tossed the sponge into the trash. "Sorry, dad."

With a shake of his head, Tex climbed to his feet, grimacing when his boots slid on the slick floor. He didn't even know why he still kept floor wax in the house. Between him and the boy constantly tramping in dirt, mud, and other muck, there was no chance of keeping the place clean. Hell, he didn't even bother keeping the windows washed; one storm later and they'd be covered in a fine red dust again. It seemed a waste of effort. Even so, the boy enjoyed cleaning--when he was in heat. It was one of the few latent omega traits he had noticed his son display. 

Tex was certain other parents would be overjoyed that their child dutifully took to cleaning, scrubbing the house from top to bottom, scouring out the toughest of stains. Not him. 

"Don't ya have anything better to do? Go exploring, expand your rock collection, _anything_. These floors ain't worth waxing. Do you know how much I paid for them?

Keith screwed his lips to the side, considering. "Fifty bucks."

His father growled. "This house was cheap, not free. I dropped more than a grand total of a hundred bucks on it, thank you very much."

Keith glanced around, as if he found that difficult to believe. 

"Don't be a smart ass, git over here. I have something for you."

Tossing his gloves into the bucket of supplies he had scrounged up, Keith tiptoed over to his father, minding the slippery floor. A misstep almost saw him tumble to the ground, but his father caught him by the arm and moved them to the threadbare throw rug before any further injury could be had. A thick packet of paper was shoved under his nose.

"What's this?" Keith asked, taking the papers and flipping through them quickly. The Galaxy Garrison letterhead sat proudly at the top of each page and concluded with a bright blue signature from the dean of admissions and the head of financial aid. 

"That is your new tuition bill and terms of agreement. Sign the damn papers so I can send 'em back."

"New tuition bill?" he echoed, skimming the lines more carefully in search of a new number. Several figures popped out at him, including a startlingly high percentage cut. He had to have read that wrong, he thought, reading and rereading the lines. His eyes flicked to his father's face. "Dad."

Tex raised a brow, curious over the tone. "Yes?"

"Who did you threaten to make this happen?"

"Threaten? What makes you think I threatened someone?" His boy had quite the imagination. 

Keith gave him a flat look, rubbing his thumbs over the surface of the packet of papers. "I know you like to pretend that you're a simple redneck, but I know you're actually a genius. I got it from somewhere. This is totally something you would do."

That seemed to be a backhanded compliment, praising his intelligence while pointing out his corrupt nature, but Tex chose to be pleased that his child thought so highly of him. It was no secret that he would do anything for his son. He was painfully transparent in that regard. It was a curse, really, being such a wonderful dad.

Reaching over, he tousled the boy's hair and laughed. "I'm happy that you think I'd be so skilled at extortion, but these papers are legal and legit. I happen to know the guy heading the financial aid department."

Keith flipped back to the signature page and read the name. Edward Patterson. It was not a name he was familiar with. He knew almost all of his father's friends. He supposed a contact did not necessarily mean a friend, though that lead him to wonder what type of connection his father had with this man, if Mr. Patterson was convinced to give him such a drastically reduced tuition. 

It was probably best he didn't question it. 

At Keith's prolonged silence, Tex rolled his eyes. He had made the boy paranoid. "Sign the papers, Keith."

"I will, I'm just--how did you do this, dad?"

"I just told ya; sign."

He did not need to be told twice. Two minutes later, he handed the papers back to his father, pausing to wrap his arms around the man's middle and snuggle his chest appreciatively. Tex rumbled happily, stroking his hair. It was good to see his boy happy. 

"So," Keith pulled away, eyes wide and excited, "now what?"

Now the real fun began, Tex thought with a grimace. "Now we get your school supplies."

"Like notebooks and pencils?"

Bless that oblivious boy. "Like a laptop, text books, and a graphing calculator."

"What is a graphing calculator?"

=============

The sun had just set and the air was quickly growing chilly. Shrugging on his jacket, Tex threw another log onto the firepit and reached for another beer. Ern belched loudly, rubbing his stomach as he watched the flames dance. The worst of the summer heat had gone, they thought. Not that autumn heat was much better, but it was just cool enough that they could stand working outside and not shuttered away in a garage or bunker to stay cool. 

"Where's the boy?" Ern asked.

"Sleepin'. He got his heat again. Been a lazy log all week."

That was fine by Tex. He'd rather the boy finish out the summer on his heat so he wasn't plunged into the foreign territory of the garrison in the worst state of his life. That would be a sure fire way to make the first days of school hell on earth. 

As if reading his thoughts, Ern asked casually, "Ya fork out the money for proper heat medication now?"

"'Course. I ain't letting him walk into a den of self-important alphas leaking and smelling to high heaven."

"S'about time."

Tex grunted. He wasn't proud that he had made his son suffer natural heats for so many years, but money was tight and always had been. They had only just gotten on health insurance some several years ago, after the boy contracted a particularly bad strain of pneumonia and Tex had suffered some very potent fears of his son dying. The hospital bills were astronomical, but his son survived. He had learned his lesson, but of course heat medications were not fully covered under their policy. Three hundred bucks a pop for heat medication was just a little too much in Tex's opinion. 

Going without was no longer an option. He had suggested Keith consider having his womb permanently removed. No womb, no heat, no hormones, no problems. Keith had stared at him, a dark expression on his face before telling his father off for making such a bad joke. He tried to laugh it off as a joke, but Tex was slightly mortified to discover, after some reflection, that he was not entirely certain it had been a suggestion made only in jest. 

He shook the memory away as Ern reached over the side of his chair and pulled a heavy looking paper wrapped parcel into his lap. 

"W'as that?"

"I told ya, I'm helping with the boy's school supplies. Mitch gets a discount at his school's store 'cause he works for the IT department. Employee discount and all that. This little baby should have all the power lil' Kogane needs for school."

The man passed the parcel over, warning Tex not to drop it. It was much heavier than expected, but the heft gave him an idea as to what the present was.

"These better not be a laptop."

Ern snorted. "Ya can't send the boy to the garrison with that clunky ass monitor and tower. He'd be laughed off the campus."

That, Tex begrudgingly admitted, was true. He had stared at the computer in the living room some nights ago, contemplating it. It was a slow, outdated piece of trash, but it served its purposes--for him. It would not perform so well at the garrison. He had resigned himself to the need to buy the boy a new computer. As a point of pride though, he had determined that he would be the one to purchase it. Try as the town's folk did to needle him for lists of needed supplies, the most he would admit to was pencils and post it notes. Of course, that didn't stop them from leaving baskets of loose-leaf paper, highlighters, pens, tape dispensers, staplers, and folders on the porch in the middle of the night. 

There had been one mysteriously well stocked box of calculators, graphing tools, electronics, and miscellaneous goods that he suspected had come from his army friends.

A thought came to Tex and he narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Did you organize all of this?"

A smug grin lit up Ern's full face. "Maybe."

Why bother protesting, Tex thought with a heavy sigh. His friends were determined to see Keith well off. He should be grateful. Raising his beer to Ern, he took a heavy swallow and considered how many favors he would have to perform in thanks for the assistance. 

===========

There was something deeply satisfying and gravely disturbing, seeing his son's bedroom packed away in boxes. Pride swelled in Tex's chest, thinking of how far his son had come, knowing the next steps the boy was taking towards his future. And yet...he could not shake the sinking feeling that he was losing his child. 

Ern had warned him this would happen. He would be one of the worst empty-nesters known, his friend claimed, laughing and patting his back. Said in jest or not, Tex knew it was true. He had lived a perfectly content life alone all those years ago, before fatherhood had dropped into his lap. Then Keith became his life, his reason for living. He could not imagine the coming months--years--not always having his son close, usually feet away from him. He would be alone. It was terrifying.

"Yer not bringing your rocks?" he asked, lounging in the doorway as Keith packed away the set of thermal blankets Moira had given him. 

Keith glanced at him, then at the array of glittering stones sitting on the ledge of his window. "Naw. Probably won't have room for them anywhere. I'll be home on the weekends though, so I'll get to keep working on the collection."

That was good news, but still Tex felt oddly disappointed. 

"Are ya bringing anything with you that isn't of essential nature?" Not that the boy had much to begin with.

"I don't know. Maybe some books. I'll probably be studying the whole time I'm there, so no use bringing anything else."

How practical of him. 

Tex huffed softly, watching Keith move about the room, packing things as neatly as possible to preserve space. He hadn't given the boy enough, he thought suddenly. Children's rooms were meant to be littered with toys and clothes and all sorts of useless trinkets that held sentimental value. There was not a time in his memory that Keith had been overflowing in a wealth of toys, save when he was an infant and the alpha brigade had fawned over the tiny child. He had thought that his son had never wanted for anything. Meeting basic needs though did not mean he had given his son what he wanted. He was a poor father.

"Your uniforms came." Tex blurted, chasing away the painful thought with a frown.

Keith turned to him, eyes shining. 

The shape of the box had been telling enough as to what was inside, but the unabashed Galaxy Garrison symbol stamped on all sides and the lid had left no doubt as to the contents. Tex had rolled his eyes as Billy handed him the package at the post office, commenting happily how the townsfolk were expecting great things from Keith. Driving home with the box, he marveled that one thousand dollars worth of clothing could fit into such a small container. Then again, for three hundred dollars per uniform, there wasn't all that much in there. He only prayed that the boy did not grow during the next few years.

"Remember," he said as Keith grabbed for the box and tore at it, "these are for _school_ purposes. When you're off campus and doing your little desert exploring you wear your own clothes. Do not ruin these."

"Yes, sir."

With a powerful wrench, Keith ripped the box top free and tossed it to the floor. Peering into the box, his gleeful expression faltered. 

"What's wrong?" Tex asked, concerned. Dear god, he hoped they hadn't sent the wrong things.

Keith made a soft sound, reaching in and pulling out the jacket, holding it up by the shoulders. The fabric looked stiff and would not breathe well in the heat, Tex noted. That was not his son's concern though, he was certain.

"What's wrong?" he asked again.

Keith grimaced. "It's...orange."

"I can see that."

"It's really ugly."

Tex snorted. "Yeah, yeah it is. If it makes ya feel any better, it looks a hell of a lot better than the uniforms back in my day. They were a hideous olive green and you couldn't move in them fer shit." Needless to say, he and his crew received a number of reprimands for being out of uniform. 

It could be worse, Keith thought as he carefully removed the plastic wrap from each piece and placed them ever so carefully into a box of clothes. Orange wasn't a horrible color. It was pretty bad, but not the worst. At least it wasn't yellow. He looked horrible in yellow. As did most people. He doubted the Galaxy Garrison would want their students to stand out like bananas. At least oranges blended in with the surrounding sand and rock.

He placed his hand over the front of the uniform, digging his fingertips into the stiff fabric. It was real. He had actually done it. A pleased grin curled his lips and he had the oddest urge to howl in excitement. Casting a look about, he counted the boxes he was bringing to school, stuffed full of his new supplies and bedding. There was no denying it now--he was going to the garrison. Just like his father had.

"Hey, dad--" he turned back towards the door, but found his father gone. "...dad?"

The backdoor creaked open then slammed shut. His father was going to the shed again. The man had been spending an unusual amount of time in the stuffy little shack, working from morning sometimes well into the night. When asked what he was about, Tex would only shrug and offer a vague answer. Nothing Keith could piece together to solve the mystery.

Maybe this was how his father dealt with depression, he thought, getting to his feet and wandering from the house. From the backdoor, he could hear the wail of the bandsaw. A moment later, the huff of the blowtorch sang out. Keith hummed; it had been awhile since his father had worked on a personal project. With his curiosity leading him, he trotted to the shed and carefully slid to his father's side. The man glanced at him once, focused on the task at hand. 

The project was still in its initial phase, little more than a skeleton of some great sized machine. The shape reminded Keith a bit of a glider, but if he were to hazard a guess as to the final product, he would guess some sort of sand rover. With a grunt, he started searching the shack for a blueprint. 

The torch went out suddenly. 

"Boy, do not touch anything in here. I have everything arranged how I need it.

Keith frowned at his father. "I just want to see what it is."

"You'll see soon enough. Go back inside and finish packing; you have to be ready for this weekend."

Keith knew that. He suspected that was the root of his father's ire. It would be the first time in nearly two decades that the man had the house entirely to himself. No more picking up his son's dirty laundry, no more hunting the desert when his son did not return before sunset, no more waking up to burnt toast and crisp bacon in the morning, no more late night star gazing or dune surfing. No more Keith.

"You're not gonna cry tomorrow, are you dad?"

Tex shot him a peevish look. "Pack. Now."

Well, fine, Keith groused internally. Two could play that game. "Yes, sir." he saluted and march away, pretending not to hear the man's growl of annoyance.

Back in his room, he sat in the center of his bed and stared at the expanse of boxes before him. He owned so little and yet he had at least eight boxes packed away. Was that a lot? Would he have more stuff than the rest of the incoming freshmen? He hoped not. He didn't want to seem too materialistic. He nudged the box containing his blankets with his foot. To be fair, he supposed, half of the boxes were bedding. 

"No omega should go off without proper blankets and sheets." Moira had told him with a glimmer of tears in her eyes as she presented him with the flannel sheets and thermal blankets. 

He had smiled widely at her, wondering why she was crying. She had been a prominent figure in his life since infancy, that much he knew, but was she so attached to him? Perhaps her infatuation with Tex bled over into him as well. Whatever the case, he was thankful to have the woman in his life. She balanced out all the overbearing alpha men he had to deal with. It was a pity his father had never found the courage to ask the lovely beta out.

Maybe once he was gone, Tex would start focusing on himself a little more. With no kid to look after, the man would be bored to tears and lonely. The thought of Tex on a date though was laughable and Keith had to cover his mouth and fight down a fit of giggles at the idea of his rugged alpha father trying to woo a woman as poised as Moira. 

Of course, the other alternative was that his father would start paling around with his army friends even more. Were that to pass, he did not think the man's liver would survive another five years. The brigade was infamous for downing kegs of beer and getting piss ass drunk. Keith did not like it. 

Flopping into his pillows, he stared up at the watermarked ceiling. Soon, he would have a new ceiling to contemplate. His eyes trailed over the cracks and stains, a familiar pattern he had memorized over the years. Was it odd to miss a cracked ceiling? He knew he would. In a matter of days he would be thrust into an entirely foreign environment with nothing to latch onto but his memories of home and the trinkets he brought with him, which were few. 

It would be a change, that was certain. It would be a _good_ change, he told himself. It was time for his life to begin. Keith just hoped that he had not been robbed of independence for the rest of his life.

===============

Their final shared meal together was to be a grand affair. It had to be. If his son as leaving him, Tex was determined to make the event memorable. For a brief moment he had considered inviting over the alpha brigade to have a proper celebration, but he quickly decided against it. This was Keith's night...and he did not feel like sharing his son. 

After politely declining company, he sent the boy out to hunt for fossils, taking the time to properly sear a steak and prepare actual cooked vegetables and rice. They had grown dependent on the microwave over the years. Lord knew it was easier for him to pop the food in a machine than take the time to wash up just to handle the vegetables. 

Maybe with Keith gone, he would take up cooking again, Tex thought. The more he cooked, the better chance he had at convincing the boy to come home. It had been years since he had opened a cookbook. Even longer since he had bought new cutlery--unless by some chance he or Keith destroyed one piece and they needed a replacement out of necessity. He took a cursory glance around the kitchen and dining room. 

Perhaps it was time to get himself together. The place, admittedly, looked like a rundown shack. Ern's teasing that it was a miracle child protective services hadn't come and taken Keith away years ago rang in his head, bringing forth memories of his little boy curled in an orange crate as an infant, getting caught in the porch spindles--before he had taken the porch railing down, seeing as Keith made it a habit to get stuck in them--and the hours he had spent listening to neighbors and townsfolk trying to educate him on the needs of a newborn. Well, miracles happened, and his boy had turned out just fine.

He would be fine as well, Tex thought determinedly, throwing an assortment of vegetables into an oiled pan. It was the perfect opportunity for him to fix the place up. Replace the crappy hardwood floors, re-shingle the roof, maybe rope Moira into helping him figure out what the hell interior decorating was. Keith would be making friends now and would want to bring them home. The house needed to be at least somewhat presentable.

He occupied his mind with creating a list of projects to undertake while Keith was at school, thinking proudly how fine their home would look. The image in his mind barely looked like the current home after the hour he spent pondering. When Keith trudged in, banging the front door loudly, arms full of sheets of rock and round geodes, Tex laughed.

"Boy, you have a knack for finding things."

Keith hummed, dropping his treasures onto the couch and taking a moment to sort them. "I found you some fossils. And I think this big one is an amethyst--not sure."

"We can crack them open later. Go wash up. Dinner will be ready in half an hour."

With his legs covered to the thigh in sand, Keith decided it was easier to shower than try and slap his clothes clean and scrub the dirt from his skin. If there was one thing he knew he would miss, it was not having to share a shower with a pack of unknown males. The garrison had assured them--at Tex's worried pressing--that all omegas were housed away from alphas and shared bathrooms only with other omegas. There was no chance an amorous alpha would be able to get into the stalls to take advantage of an unsuspecting cadet. That hadn't allayed much of Keith's concerns; sharing a bathroom with thirty omegas was likely just as bad as sharing one with thirty alphas. 

He was determined to enjoy his final shower then, taking his time to stand beneath the spray and wallow in the scalding water. This was a bliss he would not get to enjoy often, if his father's tales of the garrison were anything to go by. He rocked back and forth on his feet, watching the suds swirl around his ankles before slipping down the drain. It was an oddly poignant moment and one he felt stupidly sentimental about. 

_It's just a shower._

When he reappeared, he was wearing one of his father's oversized ARMY shirts that hung down to his thighs, so large that the hem hid all but an inch of the red shorts we he had slipped on beneath. Tex eyed him with a frown, but said nothing, setting dinner before his son and dropping into his seat. Keith stared at him, glancing at the plate of steak and stir-fried vegetables. 

"Something wrong?" Tex asked, cutting into his steak.

Keith shook his head. "Guess not."

Both had expected a certain amount of uncomfortable silence and awkward tension, but neither had prepared for absolute silence. Words died on their tongues as soon as they thought of something to say. The only sounds filling the room were the clank of utensils against plateware and the slurping of drinks.

Tex glanced at his beer can. It was as good a place to start the conversation as any. "When you get to school, there are gonna be parties. I would appreciate it if ya didn't drink. If you get caught drinking underage, you could get thrown out. You can drink on the weekends when you're here, under my supervision."

Keith snorted, shaking his head ruefully. "As if, dad. I hate alcohol."

"Well, you may feel pressured to try somethings while you're there. Just remember son, you're not there to prove anything. You're there because you want to be a pilot."

"I know, dad. I have no problem telling people off."

That was true enough. Still, Tex worried. He had restricted his son so much at home. Absolute freedom to do as Keith wanted was a terrifying thought. He imagined for his son though, it would be like waking up in a dream; the perfect opportunity to do anything he wanted and damn the consequences.

He dropped his fork, contemplating his next words. There was no easy way to speak his mind and he knew Keith would be annoyed, but the words needed to be said.

"Keith, look at me."

He did so.

Tex sighed. "Son, you're growing up to be a fine young man and I want ya to know how proud I am of you, but I also want you to listen to the advice I'm giving you."

Keith nodded slowly. "Okay, dad."

"In another few months you're gonna be eighteen--"

"Oh, god, dad, are we really having _this_ talk right now?"

" _Listen._ " Tex hissed, commanding. "When you're eighteen you'll be a legal adult. You know exactly what that means. Trust me when I say that there will be plenty of alphas at school looking at you, expressing interest. The law won't be there to protect you anymore and neither will I, Keith."

"Dad. I don't _need_ protecting from alphas. It's sex, not the end of the world!"

"No, it could just be the end of _your_ world." Honestly, he had thought he had taught his son better. "You might think it's just sex, but for you, it's not. Whether we like it or not, omegas are biologically different. You know how you get when you're in heat; ya fall in love with the first alpha ya see! That medication of yours only prevents the symptoms of yer heat; you'll still be going through all the hormonal imbalances."

"Dad, what are you trying to say?"

"I'm sayin' that chances are you're gonna fall in love."

"And that's bad?"

How could love be a bad thing? Keith had been waiting years for the opportunity to date. The mating selection was slim pickings in town and if that hadn't deterred him from seeking out a partner, than his overbearing father had. 

Tex frowned worriedly. "Love is complicated, son. It doesn't always end the way that we want." He huffed softly, thinking of the boy's mother and how that end had played out. "At some point, you may think you're in love, but no one is worth your future. You may start thinking that it's a good idea to give everything up and be someone's...omega, but it's not. And god help you if you get pregnant, boy. I--"

He had heard about as much as he could stomach. This was not how Keith wanted to remember his final meal--filled with his father's paranoid rambling about alphas and omegas and pregnancy. He wasn't stupid--a fact his father sometimes forgot. Over the years, his father had filled his head with ample warnings about alphas and how devious they were. Although he doubted the information his father fed him, he took it to heart. 

"Dad, please just stop. I'm not an idiot. You're really scared that I'm going to do something stupid like get pregnant? Please. Give me a little credit."

If only he could, Tex thought. Perhaps if his son hadn't spent so many years slipping out of his sight to chase alphas, he could have a bit more faith in his boy. Alas, he had been mentally scarred by the times he had run after Keith or found the boy in some alpha's embrace, gazing at the strange boy with the most adoring look in the world. He shuddered.

Not if he had a say in matters.

Pushing his plate aside, Tex reached to his belt and unbuckled it. Keith watched curiously, wondering what the man was about. Surely his petulance wasn't worth a belting. He hadn't been spanked in years...

"Dad..."

"I have something for you." The man fiddled with the freed belt a moment before tossing it to the ground and presenting the scabbard he kept at his back. The dagger rested heavily in his palms, far too heavy for any metals he was familiar with. A part of him was uncertain about giving the blade to the boy. If ever it got into the wrong hands, it could be a disaster. Keith needed it though, he had convinced himself of that.

Across the table, the boy had pushed his own plate aside, staring with wide eyes at the presented gift.

"Mom's knife..."

"She gave it to me..." _More like threw it at me. Threatened me with it. Wanted me to use it to protect her pup._ A grin witched at the corner of his mouth. "to protect myself and you. I used it a lot back in the day when you were just a lil' whelp. It's served me well. Now, I'm giving it to you."

He extended his arms further.

Keith stood, reaching for the blade before hesitating. "But...it's mom's."

"Yeah. And now it's yours."

Keith hesitated another moment before carefully taking the dagger from his father's hands. It was much heavier than he had anticipated, like the blade had been forged of the heaviest steel. And yet, when he slid the blade from its scabbard, it gleamed silver, sharp and pristine. He had never seen anything like it. 

Keith lifted his eyes to his father, brows furrowed. "Are you sure, dad? It's your only memory of her..."

"No, it's not." He smiled fondly at the boy's confused expression. "I have you too. More to the point though, I don't need it anymore. I already spoke to Patterson about conceal and carry rules at the school. You'll have to sign a permit, but you have permission. Keep it on ya at all times, but don't pull it unless you feel you absolutely have to use it."

"I won't." He held the blade to his chest, gripping it with white knuckle force. 

Tex stared at his son, a proud smile on his face. He had awaited the day he would pass the blade to his son. Truth told, Keith had always been the rightful owner, in his mind. He was simply holding onto it until the boy was old enough to handle the responsibility. 

"I'm so proud of you, son."

Keith's lips quivered. "Thanks, dad."

"Remember, only use it if you have to."

"I promise, dad."

"If any alphas give you trouble, stab them."

He paused. "What?"

"Stab 'em right in the groin."

Keith's expression faltered, lips pressing into a tight line. "You ruined the moment, dad..."


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today was the day! The big day! The day Keith's life really began! 
> 
> ...Tex hated it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally done! Alpha Hunter is wrapping up in 2 chapters, so that means more dadverse time soon! Aaaaand more Sheith!!!
> 
> Thanks for being so patient and sticking around! You guys are great! Hope you enjoy!

He was having such a pleasant dream; it was not quite the past, not quite real, but it reminded Tex enough of his memories of Keith's childhood that he did not care what was reality and what was not. His small boy, toddling after him as he worked around the house, grabbing at his calf, mewling for attention--it was all he needed to stay happy. Had Keith really been that small? It was hard to believe his boy had fit into the crook of his elbow once. So small, so needy, not a thing like the rambunctious, independent teen he shared his life with now. 

"Dad?"

He glanced down at the toddler clinging to his leg. "Hm?"

"Dad? Are you awake?"

"What?"

Wide violet eyes stared up at him imploringly. The boy had a damn near perfect mask for blackmail. He reached down, patting the soft mop of raven hair on the boy's head. He had forgotten how he had missed those days. Constant heart attacks from Keith's antics aside, he had adored his little boy. There was always some strange thought passing through his son's head, always some new adventure to be had. There had never been a dull moment.

His dreams continued on pleasantly, darting from one scene to the next, leaving him in a cloud of euphoria. It was the best night of rest he had gotten in years and he was loath to rouse, but some nagging feeling compelled him. There was something he ought to be doing, instinct reminded him, something important. As his mind struggled to shake off the shroud of slumber, he tried to focus on what it was he had forgotten. An important day. They were going somewhere. Somewhere he didn't like.

Tex opened his eyes with a grunt, staring at the bleary, water marked ceiling. Memory came flooding back in. Garrison. The boy was moving in to his dorm room that day. He shut his eyes with a groan, hoping to stave off the inevitable for another few minutes. Perhaps if he stayed abed all day, feigning sickness, he wouldn't have to go through with it. Unlikely, he thought. Keith would just walk himself to the garrison, the boy was that determined. That troublesome thought was enough to prompt him into a sitting position. 

With a mighty yawn and a stretch, he turned to the window to see how early it was, only to come face to face with a pair of curious violet eyes. He recoiled, practically falling from bed.

"Damn it, boy, _what_ are you doing?!"

Keith unfurled from his position perched on the window sill, moving to sit at the end of his father's bed. "I was waiting for you to get up."

"You've been sitting there, staring at me all this time?"

"Is that weird?"

He hadn't socialized his son enough. "Yes, it is very weird. Do not do that to any future friends you make."

With a delicate, unconcerned shrug, Keith hopped from the bed and ran for the door. He paused at the threshold, turning to look at his father, working the kinks from his shoulders and back. "I made breakfast and packed the truck. I'm ready to go."

Tex did not immediately respond. Today was a day to be proud, he reminded himself. Keith was growing into a fine young man. Today was the first step his son would take in the direction of the bright future he knew the boy had. Squashing his restlessness, he got up and rummaged through his drawers for a set of clean clothes. He felt the weight of Keith's eyes on him for a moment before the boy ran off to do he did not know what. 

Walking past Keith's room, he could not help but pause and peer in. His heart stuttered for a moment. It was the culmination of all his fears and hopes. An empty room greeted his wary eyes; a stripped bed, a bare desk, missing books and no sign of life. All of it had been packed away, leaving him with nothing but a hollow shell of a room to remind him that once his child had lived there. 

But not anymore.

Grumbling softly, he shut the door so he would not have to look at the evidence of his empty nest. That reality would settle in soon enough. No need to rush it. 

A full plate sat ready for him at the table, stacked high with bacon, toast, eggs, and what appeared to be a pancake of sorts. A canteen of coffee steamed beside it, already poured into a heat preserving container. That was a subtle hint, Tex thought as he sat down to his meal. Have this big breakfast, his son was telling him, but don't take too long. There were things to do and places to go. Coffee for the road.

He would take as long as he could, Tex decided. He was not being petty. He was simply tired after a restless night of tossing and turning--never mind that he had slept like the dead; it had been a horrible, awful night of rest. Simply awful. He was owed a few slow mornings now and again. Even when the boy came running into the house, staring at him impatiently, he took his time, cutting each piece into manageable pieces and savoring the meal. Keith would growl and run back outside each time. With luck, the boy would burn off some of his energy. The last thing Tex wanted was an overly anxious teen in the truck with him for two hours. 

"Dad!" Keith bellowed at him after the fifth time running into the house.

Tex growled. "Alright! Hold yer horses, damn it!"

He wouldn't be able to enjoy the rest of the meal anyway, he reasoned, getting to his feet and dropping the half full plate into the sink. Swiping the coffee canteen from the table, he went to the door where his son was fidgeting restlessly. 

"Ready?" Keith pleaded pathetically.

Tex sighed, expression softening. "Almost. Come 'ere."

Keith stepped forward, glancing back at the truck eagerly. He just wanted to go. The journey needed to start, or he was positive that he would go mad from expectation. His father was being stubborn. Maybe if he whined a little more---

Something heavy fell on his head, blotting out the world momentarily. With an indignant cry, Keith pulled the leather jacket from his head and pouted up at his father.

"What was that for?"

"It's fer you. Put it on."

He must have misheard. Keith blinked at the man, gaze turning then to the worn jacket in his hands. He held it aloft, tracing his gaze over the patches of beige and brown leather. It was beaten and cracked, well worn and much loved. Here and there he could spot some stitching from where his father had patched up a tear. As far back as his memory went, Keith recalled his father wearing that jacket.

"For me?" he echoed. Tex nodded. "But...it's your favorite jacket, dad. I can't take it."

"It's fine." his father said, reaching out and ruffling his hair. "I have another one that I haven't used nearly enough. Now you'll have something to keep you warm at night. And to remind you of home."

Home... Keith held the jacket to his nose, inhaling deeply. The heady scent of aged alpha tickled his nose. His father's spicy personal scent washed over him, a sudden sense of calm overcoming him. There was no rush now. All was well. He always marveled at how commanding his father's scent was; there was no mood his father's scent could not improve. It would be good to have the reminder of home and father those first trying days of school.

Pressing his cheek to the warm leather once, he carefully pulled the jacket on, laughing at how the sleeves fell past his fingertips.

"You'll grow into it." Tex reassured him, chuckling softly. 

"Maybe." He would never have the bulk and height of his father, but with luck he would grow a bit more. Maybe. It was anyone's guess, with his eighteenth birthday creeping up. 

It was a good fit, Tex thought with a warming flush of pride. "Here. One more thing." 

Keith followed him to the sliver of a closet where they tossed their boots and unused gear. It took some rummaging, but at the bottom of the collapsing brown box Tex found what he was looking for. 

"Ah." he grabbed the hat up, beating it against his leg to dust it off. "Here we go. My old army hat. It'll keep yer ears warm."

His father must be falling apart inside, Keith thought as the man plopped the hat on his head. Such a plethora of gifts! He would be lying if he said he hadn't hoped that one day he would get to own his father's jacket. Since he was a toddler, he was always stealing it, using it as a blanket or tripping over the long sleeves as he proudly imitated his father. Now it really was his. 

"Thanks, dad."

A choked sound of surprise caught in Tex's throat as the boy threw his arms around his waist, snuggling into his chest. The subtle sound of purring reached his ears and he embraced his son in return, pressing his scent to the boy's hair. 

Keith laughed, skin tingling at the scenting. "Dad! I'm not a---wait." He pulled back abruptly, expression suspicious. "Are you trying to make me smell like an alpha?"

With the stoicness of a rock, Tex replied evenly, "Would that be bad?"

Moment ruined. Again. With a growl, Keith shoved away, turning on his heel and storming out of the house, the screen door slamming in his wake. He would get over it, Tex thought with a sigh, grabbing his keys. In a few hours, he was certain that Keith would see how beneficial it was to have an alpha's scent on him. Strong and fierce as his boy was, there was no getting around the fact that Keith was an omega. He would be subject to a certain amount of harassment from the school alphas. It was an irritating fact, but one they both had to come to accept.

"You got yer knife?" he called, coming down the porch with coffee in hand.

Keith's head popped up over the hood of the truck. "Yes, sir."

Good. He had not been kidding when he told Keith to carry it on him at all times. He refused to allow his son to become a statistic. 

That was it then. There was nothing left to do. All supplies had been packed. Breakfast had been eaten. Gifts had been imparted. He supposed all that was left was to say goodbye. Tex turned back to the house, staring at his son's window. Inside, he knew there was an empty room. An empty nest. 

"Dad?"

The man growled low in his throat, clenching his fist tightly around the keys until they dug painfully into his palm. This was going to be absolute hell.

=====

"Get yer feet off the dash."

Keith glanced at his father with a bland expression. "You never had a problem with it before." he muttered, dropping his feet back to the floor.

"I don't have a problem with yer bare feet." Tex clarified, glancing at his son's knee-high boots. "Those are high polished, military grade boots. I don't want them scuffing my truck."

Honestly, they ought to be more concerned about the truck scuffing the boots, in Keith's opinion. Those boots cost a ridiculous sum of money. More than he thought the truck might be worth. Buying a spare pair was not an option. He had to keep these boots in meticulous condition. 

He would be careful, he swore. He had made it to the Galaxy Garrison. He was not going to allow himself to be reprimanded for something as trivial as a uniform violation. There were worse things to be punished for. If the tales his father and the other alphas spun were anything to go by, he would have to work hard to get himself a mark on his permanent record. If his father could put a cow on the roof and still remain enrolled, he didn't have much to worry about.

"What's so funny?"

Keith glanced over to his father. He hadn't realized he had been laughing under his breath. 

"I was just thinking about the stories you and Ern used to tell about the school."

Tex was sorely regretting those stories now; he had planted ideas in his son's head. Between the tales of secret tunnels, pranking the staff, and sneaking out after curfew, he was unsure what expectations he had put in Keith's brain. 

"Keith--"

"I'll behave, dad. I'm not a delinquent like you were."

He was almost insulted by that comment. Or he would have been, if he did not know that it was absolutely true; he had been the worst of offenders back in his school days. "See that you do. You need to have the best grades in your class--an impeccable record. Yer gonna need that scholarship until you graduate."

"I know, I know. I'm not going to go dick around."

Tex scoffed at that. "Yes, you will. It's college. It's a military college, but it's still college. There will be parties and bad ideas in abundance. You just make sure ya keep your head above the water. I want ya to have fun, but I want ya to do it responsibly."

Fun. Keith pondered what that meant. He supposed it meant hanging out with friends and whiling away obscene amounts of time on trivial pursuits, like video games or dating. Jesus, he didn't ever dare say the word 'dating' around his father. He knew very well where the man stood on that particular field. No dating until after college, the man always said. It wasn't just a hyperbole, Keith knew. His father truly expected him to stay chaste during his college years. 

That might be his greatest challenge yet. He had never been in such close proximity of an alpha that was not his father or an aged old man who had helped raise him. There would be boys in abundance at school. Strong, stinking, alluring boys. So many boys and no hawk eyed father, hovering over each step he took, monitoring the friends he made. It was an exhilarating prospect.

The sudden silence unnerved Tex. He slid his eyes to his son, watching the way Keith chewed his lip and stared blankly at the distance. 

"Whatcha thinking?"

"Huh?" Keith blinked back to the moment. "Oh, I was wondering what types of clubs they'll have at school."

_No you weren't, ya little scoundrel._ Tex knew that dazed look; he could recognize it a mile away. Boys, he huffed. His son was thinking about all the boys he would meet at school. God help him if Keith tried to bring one of those pompous alpha brats home anytime soon. It was an inevitable end, he knew; Keith was a mature omega, now entering his prime years. Whether he liked it or not, his son would be attracting attention and now Keith had the opportunity to reciprocate those attentions. 

"Don't you dare get pregnant." he blurted.

Keith jumped, twisting and staring at the man in horror. "Jesus, dad--what?! Where the hell did _that_ come from?!"

"I ain't stupid. You're a teenager. You're an omega. You're leaving home for the first time and have a world of temptations at yer feet. Don't be stupid about it. If you have a baby, yer life is over."

"Oh my god, dad!"

"Don't 'oh, my god, dad' me with that scandalized tone. I know you've already been thinkin' about dating. I don't want you messin' around, Keith. Yer too inexperienced. Once you find someone you actually like, we can sit down, man to man, and have a long talk about it. Until then, ya keep yer clothes on and don't allow anyone to touch. Understand?"

Keith fought back a groan. It was the single most humiliating moment of his life, and that was saying something. Did his father really think he needed this warning? Of course he was excited about being around boys of his own age and having non-restricted interaction with alphas, but--pregnancy? Sex and mating were the last things on his mind. Perhaps he would be moved towards the idea once he met someone, as his father suggested, but he wasn't planning on going feral and rutting with every alpha that expressed interest. 

"Dad," he buried his face in his hands, "I am _not_ going to fool around with anyone."

"Good. Keep it that way."

The remainder of their trip was made in stiff, awkward silence. At one point, desperate to drown the uncomfortable air, Keith had reached over and flicked on the radio. His father's weighted gaze fell on his shoulders, but he quickly turned away, staring out the window at the passing scenery.

=====

The bustle of moving-in day always made Shiro's blood pump. He was transported back to his own first day, excitedly taking in his new home, carting in box after box of useless trinkets to remind him of home. His possessions had dwindled drastically since, down to a few personal articles of clothing and some photos of his family. He had let go of the chains that had bound him to his childhood, anchoring him to his family home. It had been time to begin his life--and he had. Watching the freshman pile into the dorms, arms laden with bags and carts of items, he could not help but laugh.

At his side, Matt chuckled as well. "They'll figure it out."

"I wonder if all of that will fit in their rooms."

He knew from memory how embarrassingly tiny the freshman dorm rooms were. Half of those boxes would be going back with parents, he wagered. At least everyone was cheerful; that was the nice thing about the garrison. Although it was an elite school, costing a fortune for each semester of tuition, the students all wanted to be there. The strict code of conduct, though stifling at times, met with his approval. They were the future of space exploration. 

With a sigh, he leaned back against the bleacher steps, watching the incoming students flit here and there. It was a day of great excitement for them, but Shiro was finally able to relax. With his assistant program completed, he could spare a few moments to breathe. It felt good to relax.

"Hey," Matt's voice broke through his moment of calm, "isn't that the freshman who curve stomped everyone during the physical fitness tests?"

"Hmm?" Shiro sat up, craning his neck towards where his friend was pointing. 

In the parking lot, a rust-red pickup truck had pulled into one of the last free spaces. It was a hike from there to the dormitory entrance, but it would have to do. Out stepped a tall man, maybe only in his thirties, with a mop of messy hair and an exhausted expression. A niggling sensation in the back of his mind irritated Shiro until he realized that he recognized the man. Just as he was about to blurt some unimportant declaration of familiarity, another body appeared. His heart stammered unusually.

From the bed of the truck, a head of black hair appeared. The tall man recoiled at the appearance, grimacing as if he had been enduring such antics all morning. The boy smiled--what a dazzling smile, Shiro thought. He was all grins, flashing teeth, and mirth that reached his eyes. There was an unreserved honesty there that Shiro found alluring. 

Funny, he thought, leaning his chin in his hand; he hadn't had those types of thoughts in awhile. Attraction? It was a rarely felt emotion. There was no denying how attractive the boy was, but...was he actually interested? Now there was an alarming thought. Shiro glanced again at the boy's smile. Even at a distance, he was entranced.

It's fine, Shiro reassured himself. He could look. There was little chance that he and the other boy would be thrown together at any point. In that case, there was nothing wrong with a bit of ogling what he couldn't have. 

=====

 

"Do you have yer room key?"

Keith hummed, rooting in his jacket pocket for said key. He produced it with a triumphant flourish, flashing a pleased grin at his father. Tex sighed, taking two boxes from the truck bed and balancing them on his shoulder. 

"Alright, let's get ya moved in."

He tried not to dwell on how happy Keith sounded, keening high in his throat as he grabbed another two boxes and bound towards the dormitory. The boy should be happy, Tex reasoned. His son had worked hard to get to the garrison. He wanted Keith to enjoy himself. He truly did. 

He pulled another box beneath his free arm, trailing after the boy. Every few feet Keith would pause and turn, looking back at him with wide, imploring eyes. _Hurry up, dad._

"I'm coming, I'm coming. Remember, I'm old."

"You're not even fifty, dad."

Telling Keith to be patient was like telling water not to be wet. The boy would put on the air of patience for a moment or two before he was overcome with excitement once more and began whining. The last thing Tex wanted or needed was a reminder of his son's whelp days, whining desperately at him for something or other. It was an unflattering trait that had grated on his nerves something fierce....but suddenly Tex found himself missing the days when Keith would paw at him in boredom, demanding entertainment.

They wove through a maze of stairwells and hallways, heading some seven floors up. Everywhere they looked, they saw clingy parents coddling their omega children, pleading with them to be safe, to be responsible. Keith laughed. Tex had to fight not to join in on the nagging. 

"I've never seen so many omegas." Keith said in wonder, glancing around the hall floor. As far as he knew, he was the only child omega in their town. There were a few older folk about, but none of his schoolmates had presented as omega. It had been a difficult, if not lonely childhood at times. That being said, he wasn't certain how he felt about being surrounded by fellow omegas. 

Tex grunted. "They certainly smell different."

That was true, Keith thought. There was a distinct smell of soap and floral body wash wafting about the dormitory. It was a vast improvement from the offending stench floating from the alpha and beta dormitories. He wasn't sure he preferred it to his father's own unique alpha smell though. He had grown up tumbling with alphas. There was a comforting appeal to their sweat and tart pheromones. He would miss--

His door!

Keith dropped his boxes unceremoniously, fumbling with his key a moment as he jammed it into the lock. The door gave way easily and he nearly tumbled to the floor, tripping over his discarded boxes. He ignored his father's scoff, kicking his boxes inside the door before darting in and taking an excited circuit about the hovel of a room. 

It was not very impressive, smaller even than his room at home, but it was all Keith had dreamed of. A solid bed flush against the wall, a sturdy desk for studying, a small window from which he could look out upon the training fields---it was perfect. His father, however, was far less than impressed. Tex stepped into the room warily, turning his nose up at the barren, white washed walls and militaristic furniture. It was far worse than it had been in his days. Or maybe the omega dormitories were simply of a lower caliber.

"Isn't it great, dad?"

The man forced a smile, carefully setting his boxes aside, where they could not be tripped upon. "It sure is...something."

Keith was no fool; he could sense his father's reservations. He decided against calling the man on it, opting instead to rip open one of the boxes and dump his blankets and sheets onto the bare mattress. 

"Hold on," Tex admonished, taking the now-empty box from his hands, "let's get the rest of yer stuff before we go unpacking."

"Oh. Right." He was running back out the door before Tex could even blink.

Stay calm, Tex told himself as he trailed after the boy. This was a huge step for Keith. It wasn't just college, it wasn't just the first step towards his dreams, it was the first step towards adulthood. It was the boy's first time away from home. It was the first place that Keith got to call his own. The boy was drunk on freedom. He just had to step back and allow it to happen. He couldn't keep Keith at his side all the boy's life.

=====

A short trip later and all of the boxes had been moved into the dorm and emptied. It was a simple task, with half of the boxes being bedding. While Keith darted about the room, hanging his clothes in the closet and setting up his desk to his liking, Tex laid layer after layer of blanket on the bed. How his son could even breathe beneath all that, he was unsure. Omegas and their nests...

Once finished, he turned and found Keith leaning out the open window, peering at the yard below.

"Don't lean too far."

Keith snorted, ignoring him. "I won't."

Such a stubborn boy he had. 

His job here was done, Tex decided. He had done about as much he could. Keith was ready. It was time to do the unthinkable. It was time to say goodbye. Clearing his throat loudly, he began stacking the empty boxes together.

"I'll leave one here in case ya need it. Ya got yer phone?"

Keith pulled away from the window and blinked, appearing confused a moment before he pulled the small phone from his bag. "Right here."

"Good boy. And yer school ID and meal card?"

"On my lanyard."

Tex fixed him with a firm look. "And the knife?"

Keith turned, lifting the back of his jacket to reveal scabbard. "Sheathed."

His job really was done. "That's my boy. Keep that on ya at all times, ya hear? And keep yer permit in yer bag, in case anyone questions ya about it."

"I will, dad. I told you, I'll be responsible."

Yes, he had said that. Tex could only hope that his boy would keep his word. He trusted Keith....he just didn't trust the world around them. He opened his mouth to offer a final word of warning, but decided against it at the last moment. Seventeen years of reminding the boy about the dangers of the world was warning enough. One more warning from him would have no effect. He had said all he could possibly say by then; he would let Keith have his moment. 

"Alright." he shifted uncomfortably, casting another glance around the tiny room. Best not to belabor the moment and make it more difficult than it had to be. "Eat a big dinner tonight. Explore your dorm and make some friends. Just don't goof around all weekend and make yourself exhausted on the first day of classes."

Keith nodded, smiling uncontrollably. 

"...I'll be going then. Give me a--"

Before he could finish the sentence, Keith had launched into his arms, wrapping his arms around his waist in a crushing grip. Tex grunted, knocked back a pace. Shaking it off, he returned the embrace, nuzzling into his son's soft hair, scenting him heavily. Keith crooned encouragingly, nuzzling into his chest.

"I love you, dad."

Oh god, his heart was beginning to hurt. "I love you too, Keith."

"I'll call you every night, I promise."

"I'd like that."

"And I'll come home every weekend."

He ruffled the boy's hair, voice cracking a bit. "Bringing laundry, no doubt."

The moment was growing long. It was time to leave. Tex knew it, but he could not bring himself to unfurl his arms and let his boy go. This was his only child, the one constant he had had in his life for nearly two decades. If his boy hadn't come into his life when he had, Tex was certain he would have been homeless or dead in a ditch somewhere by that point. He may have given Keith life, but Keith had saved _his_ life. 

And now he had to let go. 

"Be good." Tex murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of his son's head before pulling away.

Keith watched as he went, standing proudly in the center of his dorm room. 

It was the right thing to do, Tex told himself again and again as he pulled away from the school. Keith wasn't a baby. He wasn't a child to be coddled and protected anymore. It was time for him to leave the nest, spread his wings, and fly. An apt analogy, he thought. His son would do great things, he had no doubt about that. Keith would put the rest of the flight students to shame.

Tex was in a better state of mind when he reached home. It was a bitter reality, living alone once more, but he could manage. Keith was not gone for good; he would see the boy every weekend, talk to him every night. For good measure though, he avoided the closed door to Keith's room. He would be mourning enough without the temptation to peek in. 

Try as he might, Tex was unable to put thoughts of his son from his mind. Was Keith happy? Was he having fun? He prayed the boy was safe. 

_Paranoid._

Of course Keith was safe. He would give the garrison at least one thing--they had stricter codes and exceptionally low incident rates. It was a good place for his boy. 

By evening, he was growing used to the eerie solitude of the house. The first several hours had been unsettling; every few minutes he would pause in whatever task he was performing and listen. The house was still, the world quiet. He was so used to Keith running amuck in the yard or galloping about the house, Tex had forgetting what silence was. Even during the evenings, when his son was fast asleep and he sat on the porch nursing a cold beer, he could hear the creaks of the bed as Keith shifted, occasionally calling out in his sleep. 

Maybe if he put the radio on low, he could overcome the silence. It was a poor substitute, but it would have to do. Sitting on the edge of his bed, Tex contemplated the ancient radio, considering instead putting on a CD. He hadn't listened to calming jazz in awhile.

As a good a time as any to dig the old music out, Tex thought. As he thumbed through the various CDs collecting dust in the corner of his room, his phone buzzed, vibrating angrily on the nightstand. Ignoring it was the most appealing option; this late it could only be Ern, checking in to see how he was fairing as a newly empty-nester. He was in no mood to divulge his feelings. 

But the pone continued to buzz. Message after message poured in. Concern sparked in his belly. Maybe it was--no! Tex shook his head. Keith was fine. It was just Ern, concerned and checking in. ...But just to be certain, he pushed the box of CDs aside and retrieved his phone. 

All at once his stomach dropped, the worst of his fears coming to fruition. It was not Ern. A dozen text messages had flooded in from Keith's phone. He jumped to the last one and flew for his coat and keys. 

COME GET ME


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is nothing that a good dose of dad smell and pizza can't fix.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geez, chapter 9 already...
> 
> Well! 'Alpha Hunter' is finished! Which means...it's time for dad to shine! Be sure to check out my tumblr for more random dadverse ficlets, questions, etc. We also have a 'young dadverse' going, wherein Tex had Keith while he himself was still a student at the garrison. My Ko-fi page also has all my updates on it. I'll try to be better about letting you all know when I post ficlets as well
> 
> Oh, and man did y'all jump to conclusions about the end of last chapter! LOL you're as bad as Tex
> 
> Enjoy!

His arms were filled with crying teenager not a moment after he had banged his fist on the dorm room door and demanded that he be let in. The door was flung open and Keith launched into his arms, burying his tear streaked face into his father's chest. Tex froze for a moment; he had not seen his son so distressed in years. Tears were reserved for great pain or great remorse--both of which Keith experienced very rarely. His hackles rose in indignation, imagining a thousand dire scenarios that could have reduced his son to a bawling mess.

"What happened?" Tex demanded, forcing the boy back a step and closing the door after him. 

Keith sniffled loudly, running the back of his hand beneath his running nose. "Dad!"

" _What_ happened? I called you three times and each time you started crying and then hung up on me."

"Oh." He had done that. Keith supposed that likely would cause his father some worry. For all his eccentricities, Tex was a no bullshit type of man. He liked answers and he preferred to have them upfront. 

His alpha father was all but looming over him, half protecting him, half admonishing him. "Well?"

A pitiful keen escaped Keith's lips. "Well?"

"Who hurt you? What did they do?"

Keith whined again, forcing himself into his father's arms and snuggling close. The heavy scent of father, protection, and prime alpha washed over him, cocooning him in a miasma of comfort and security. The pitiful tears stopped and Keith found he was able to breath again. His father was not pleased, but the man humored him, rubbing is back soothingly and rumbling gently to calm him.

Tex had not imagined the transition from laughably small town to prestigious school to go smoothly--for him. Truth told, he had expected his son to quickly forget his promise to call every night and to get caught up in the thrall of college life. Keith would be cavorting about, enjoying freedom, while he waited by the phone all evening, forsaking anything resembling a life of his own, like the miserable sod that he was. That's what happened when kids flew the nest; they grew up overnight. 

Or not, he realized as Keith pressed his dripping nose into his shirt. 

"Alright." he grabbed the boy by the shoulders and forced him back a step. "You've had yer cry. You demanded that I come back here and git ya, so...tell me what happened."

That was not so easy a task, Keith thought, sniffling obnoxiously and wandering to the bedside where a roll of toilet paper sat. His father waited patiently for him to unclog his nose before taking a seat on the tiny cot and patting the spot beside him.

"Come on, boy."

Keith sat with a strangled groan of embarrassment.

"Well?"

"I wanna go home."

Tex waited a moment. When no further explanation was forthcoming, he prompted again, "Why?"

"Don't like it here."

For a brief moment Tex was stunned. "Don't like it here." he repeated in disbelief. 

At Keith's affirming nod, the man dropped his head into his hands. A great weight lifted from his chest, but Tex was strangely annoyed. The entirety of the afternoon he had worried about his son getting along with the other students, wondering if Keith had already snooped out the hidden tunnels and secret access routes to the roof. He had worried over his child's safety, despite knowing how capable his son was and having packed the boy off with a weapon. Receiving that vague but demanding text, commanding him back to the school, had frightened Tex more than he had ever thought possible. And now...

"Tell me ya didn't have me drive two hours just because ya got homesick."

"I want to go home, dad!"

Tex laughed sharply. "God damnit, boy; I thought you had been attacked or worse!"

Attacked? Keith blinked. Of course his father would jump to that conclusion above all others. It could never be the most reasonable and rational explanation--not in Tex's world. Everything--when it involved Keith at least--was a matter of life and death. He rolled his eyes in exasperation, wincing a moment later as his strained eyeball muscles protested the movement.

"Dad," he whined, "why do you always think something horrible has happened to me?"

Were it any other instance, Tex might be willing to take that criticism. "What did you want me to think, when you kept on sobbing and hanging upon me? I couldn't get a word outta ya!"

Fair enough, Keith supposed. His father was an anxious alpha. 

He folded his arms over his chest petulantly. "Whatever. Can we go now?"

He expected to be swept into his father's arms and carried like an infant back to the truck, his boxes packed in a flurry. After all the weeks of tension at home, he expected is father to be ecstatic. He expected to go home, be put in his bed and get a full night of rest, and by the morning this would be an event buried deeply in their past and never spoken of again.

But his father was a complex man. What he hadn't expected was for Tex to huff at him and say sternly,

"No."

"No?" Keith echoed.

"No." Tex ruffled the boy's hair, tone growing soft. "Keith, as much as I love having you home, as much as I don't want to be parted from you, and as much as you _think_ you wanna come home...this is where you're meant to be."

"No,dad." he shook his head violently. "I _do_ want to come home! This isn't right for me! I don't belong here!"

So there really was something worse than having the cub flee the nest, Tex thought with a bemused grin. As loud as his instincts were screaming, commanding him to pull his boy into his arms and carry him home, where he knew his son would be safe, he could not abide by them. He was guilty of many fatherly offenses--being too stubborn, being too protective, at times being too restrictive--but he refused to be too selfish. 

"Keith, this is your dream. If there is anywhere you belong, it's here."

"Dad, I--"

He put up his hand. Immediately, his son snapped his mouth shut. 

"You're scared; I get that. And maybe it's my fault. I've always kept you close to me. I raised you in that lil' Podunk town where there weren't enough kids fer you to even have slumber parties."

"There were." Keith interjected helpfully. "They were just all alphas."

Memories of Ern's oldest boy, a strapping young alpha quickly earning everyone's admiration, flooded Tex's memory and he grimaced. "The point is, Keith, I expect ya to be scared. This is yer first time away from home--away, away. It's frightening for me too, not having ya within easy reach."

At the heart of everything, Keith supposed that was the issue. Familiarity with his surroundings had never bothered him; he could be dropped anywhere and make himself at home--as long as his father was there with him. As he had sat huddled in the corner of his bed, awaiting his father's arrival, Keith had marveled at the fact that he could not recall a single time he had been away from the man. A night or two here or there, yes, when Tex had to work late shifts and the other town men had come to watch over him, but he had never been parted from the man for extended periods of time.

"I'm such a fucking baby." he wailed.

"Language."

"Dad!"

Tex grunted, refraining from growling in discomfort as Keith launched back into his arms, nuzzling insistently beneath his chin. His son was no small burden; easy enough to pick up and carry, but he wasn't the tiny omega child that he used to be.

"Easy, boy." He patted Keith's back. "This is gonna be an adjustment, but I know that once you get used to it, you'll be fine."

Keith whined. "How do you know?"

"I know you better than anyone else. Yer my boy. Ya just gotta remember, Keith; no matter what, you can always come home to me. No matter how old ya are, or where yer life takes ya, I'll always be there fer you. But it's time fer you to start yer life."

Keith sighed, pressing his ear to his father's chest, tense muscles unfurling as he listened to the steady, patient thump of the man's heart. He remembered falling asleep to the tempo, curled on his father's chest while they sat beneath the stars, his father pointing out constellations and rambling about alien planets and space missions. Those were the memories that meant the most to him, the ones he kept close to his heart. 

It seemed like so long ago. But the stars had always called him. Ever since infancy, when his father would hold him in the crook of his arm and march around the desert, chasing after shooting stars. Not much had changed, really. Only last month he had been latched his father's back as they zipped through the desert dunes, chasing the best vantage for a meteor shower. 

"You promise you'll always be there when I need you?"

Good lord, this was turning into a very Lion King-esq moment, but Tex was determined to get them through the sentimentality portion of it. 

"Of course I'll always be there for you. Yer my son, my pride and joy, my reason fer living--"

"Okay, dad. You could have stopped at the 'yes' part."

He looked down at the boy, still nestled snugly in his arms. "Ya prefer if I said 'yes, but only until I die, which will likely be from stress induced by you'?"

Keith snorted. "You probably wouldn't be wrong..."

At last the boy's grip loosened. A moment later, Keith pulled away, sitting with his back to the wall and knees pulled to his chest. Curled in on himself, he looked rather pathetic, but Tex could see that his boy was working through his emotions, forcing his fear aside so that logic could once more reign. 

"Will you stay the night, dad?"

"I can't stay in yer dorm, Keith. I'm sure that's against regulations."

"All the other omegas have their parents staying!" he protested, slamming his curled fists into the mattress. 

That explained all the aged, daudy looking adults meandering the halls in a daze. Tex supposed it was rather late for students to still be moving in. Well then, either the garrison's rules had grown lax since his student days or omegas received special privileges. It didn't matter. 

"Alright, alright, I'll stay the night." he said calmly, patting the boy's leg. "We'll get ya settled and comfortable. Tomorrow though you have to do this by yerself."

He could do that, Keith thought. Or he hoped he could. He just needed to get used to the idea of his father not being around. He could always go home, as the man had said; home was only two hours away. It was a longer trek than he would like....but it wasn't so far. 

He lifted his gaze, finding his father staring at him intensely. 

"Ya good?"

Keith nodded, cheeks prickling in embarrassed heat. "...I'm hungry."

That was a far easier problem to deal with. Easing to his feet, Tex ruffled his boy's hair a final time and dropped a blanket on him. "Stay here. I'll look around and see what the dining options are."

"I don't think the cafeteria will be open, dad."

"Even when I was a student, there were three other dining halls and food kiosks. By now, I expect there to be a dozen. I'll sniff them out fer ya. Stay."

As if he would go anywhere, Keith thought. He looked a mess, with his eyes all red and swollen. He did not need a reputation for being a crybaby. That was definitely not the way to go about beginning the school year. He had a vague notion that showing weakness here could lead to his downfall. He was living among a pack of wolves and he had to put on a front at all times. He would trust his father to retrieve food; the man had never failed him before. 

The door shut firmly behind Tex and Keith felt the beginnings of loneliness creep in. It was far worse than he had expected it to be. A little bout of homesickness, he had been prepared for. Overbearing as his father was, the man was a reassuring presence. To suddenly not have that protective aura was...alarming. 

Growling, he flopped into the mass of pillows on his bed and curled into a tight ball. 

"Baby..."

=====

Tex had the strongest urge for a beer. Or a cigar. Or both. Which was odd, seeing as he hadn't had a smoke of anything in over a year. Chalking the odd cravings up to stress, he wandered from the dormitory towards what he once knew as the main lecture building. Somewhere in there, he was sure to find a map. Still, the urge for relief did not leave him; he could practically taste the beer in his mouth, smell the smoke in the air. It was doubtful he would find either one of those things on the Garrison campus, for which he was glad. The less temptation for Keith, the better. 

The lecture hall, as it had once been, was no more, he was quick to discover. There were still a number of stadium like rooms here and there, but the majority of the rooms appeared to be labs of varying sorts; bio labs, computer labs, botany labs. Good to know that all the tuition money parents paid was being put to good use. But where then were the student facilities? 

A map, as it turned out, was a resource not readily available. After checking every hall, every doorway, and every common, he had come up with a great deal of nothing. Granted, he now knew the names of the newer additions to the campus, but that helped him little. Tex recalled his earlier dilemma of finding the financial aid office in the sprawling maze of a campus. He began to suspect that finding the way to classrooms was the very first test for students. 

"God damn bureaucratic bullshit." He really wanted that beer.

Tracing his steps back to the omega dormitory was significantly easier than slogging through the entire campus like a fool. It was still early yet, students wandering here and there, but he could not catch a single whiff of food. Not a single one of them were eating. Ridiculous, Tex thought. How could a bunch of college kids _not_ be shoving their gullets full of food? His boy was a black hole that could devour entire buckets of chicken at any given time, if allowed.

Could always ask the kids for directions to the nearest canteen, reason offered. 

He refused the logical solution, shoving his hands in his jacket pocket and considering driving all the way back to Ern's to get the boy a meal. Just as he was reaching for his keys, the scent struck him: pizza. He jerked his head upwards, searching frantically for the source. Keith loved pizza. It was a rare thing for them to have pizza at home, as they needed to drive to the next town over to even find a pizzeria. A pizza would be the perfect pick-me-up for the boy.

He honed in on the scent a moment later, find a young beta cheerfully loping towards a dormitory with a large box in hand. A sharp whistle drew the boy's attention and he paused, blinking owlish eyes at him behind thick glasses.

Tex waved him over. ''Ey, kid. I have one starving boy up in his room; where'd ya get the pizza?"

The boy stared at him a moment, brows drawn. He knew this man, Matt thought. But where from? The scruffy alpha was most certainly not an instructor. Maybe someone from the garrison housing district? He supposed the man could be a pilot of some sort. 

"Kid? Are ya there?" 

The man snapped his fingers in front of Matt's face and realization dawned. A wicked little grin twisted his lips; the father of Shiro's current infatuation. Well, maybe he could score his friend some points.

"The pizza is from town." Matt offered helpfully. "It's about a twenty minute drive. That way."

Tex followed the pointed finger, frowning. Forty minute round trip just for pizza. "Look, I'll level with, ya, kid. I ain't in a mood to go hunting around for food, but my kid is having a mental break down. How much do ya want for the pizza?"

Matt blinked. "You want to buy my pizza off me?"

"I can't find any of the canteens and my boy is hungry. So, yes."

A true dilemma, Matt bemoaned internally. On one hand, he was eager to help Shiro. How convenient would it be to find the little cadet and strike up a conversation, 'I gave our dad my pizza; oh, by the way, here is my strapping alpha friend, Shiro'. But pizza. It was their tradition to start the year off with a night of loud music, devouring pizza, and chugging liters of soda. One last night of debauchery before they hunkered down for another trying school year. 

He looked at the man, debating. "Twenty five bucks and it's yours."

Tex fished out his wallet, grabbing a crumpled twenty and a ten and shoving it into the boy's hand before grabbing the pizza box. "Keep the change."

=====

Before the door was fully open, Keith was on his feet, rushing to crowd his father.

"You found pizza?" he asked as soon as the door swung open. "Where did you find pizza? What kind is it?"

With a hand to the boy's chest, Tex forced his way past, depositing the box safely on the tiny computer desk. Immediately, Keith reached to open the box, keening in delight at the glorious sight of melted cheese, crisp pepperoni, sweet mushrooms, and peppers. His mood instantaneously improved and he happily reached for the largest slice and took a hearty bite.

Crisis averted, Tex thought, easing onto the bed with a sigh. A full belly would help the boy think more clearly. He would have to stop back sometime during the week and drop off some groceries for emergency comfort needs. Maybe he could get a few extra jobs and buy the boy a mini fridge. 

"Feeling better?" he asked, as Keith grabbed the pizza box and sat beside him.

Keith hummed, mouth filled with his third slice of pizza.

"Chew, boy."

"I am."

The large flecks of mashed dough and vegetables falling onto the bed sheets said otherwise. _Little slob_ , the man thought fondly. His boy was going to offend his brethren omegas with his odd behavior, he could already tell. Keith was far more alpha than he was omega. It would prove interesting--hopefully not too trying.

Somewhere between the fifth and sixth slice, Keith leaned against him, nibbling half heartedly at his meal while he drank in the protective scent of his father. It had been some time since Keith had needed comfort. Spirited and independent were two words that immediately came to Tex's mind when thinking of his son. He wasn't sure yet if he ought to be alarmed at how the boy clung or endeared at the fleeting display.

"Better?" he asked again after some minutes had passed.

Keith hesitated. "A little. Do I really have to stay?"

"Yes, you have to stay."

"Can't I come home and you can drive me to school on Monday?"

Tex laughed. "Absolutely not. Put aside the fact that I'd have to take four hours out of my day just to drive you here, then another four to come and get you and take you home, you'd kill me with gas expenses. And there ain't no way I'm gettin' up at the crack of dawn to drive ya here to make an eight AM class."

"I can drive myself." Keith offered.

"Ya ain't taking my truck. It's the only car we have."

So he really was stuck, Keith groused. There was no middle ground to be had; he either toughed it out through his fear or he gave in and went home, a failure, forever to be an omega spinster, living at home with his overprotective alpha father. It wasn't really a choice; he knew what he had to do...he just hated that he had to do it.

"Fine."

Tex glanced at his son, noting the sharp tone. The tone was unappreciated, but he would cut the boy some slack. It would be harder for Keith to leave home than it had been for him. Dynamics aside, when he was a child, Tex had loathed his parents something fierce and had fantasized about the day he got away. Keith had dreamed about the day he got away as well, but without a broken home filled with hatred to back his need for escape, it was much harder to come to terms with his sudden freedom. 

_Guess that means I'm a much better father than I give myself credit for._

Still, he could sense that Keith was hesitating, turning over the option of abandoning his dreams and fleeing back home. He could not allow that to happen. He would never forgive himself if Keith gave up on his dreams because of a bit of fear.

"Come on." He sat up suddenly, dislodging the boy from where he had been comfortably leaning.

Keith raised a brow, reaching for his boots without hesitation. "Where are we going?"

Tex grabbed his old coat and threw it at his son. "We're gonna go scout this place out. Remember, I knew this school like the back of my hand, back in the day. I know where all the secret spots are."

That was promising, Keith thought, shrugging the heavy jacket on. Maybe some of the old places were still left. If he stuck around, he would need a quiet place to study; he wasn't entirely confident that the dorms would be prime territory for that, with how rowdy everyone was. 

He ducked beneath his father's arm that was holding the door open for him. "Are you gonna show me where you hid the fake skeleton?"

=====

Nostalgia had crept up on Tex, baffling him. All he had were sour memories of the garrison, the miserable place where all his dreams had crashed and burned and he had been disgraced. One of the many places he had been disgraced. He supposed nothing could beat a dishonorable discharge from the military, but being booted from the garrison pilot program was a decent second place. 

For years, all he had had were negative emotions concerning the garrison. When Keith had proudly announced his nine-year-old desires to enter the garrison and explore the last frontier of space, Tex had groaned and prayed his son would grow out of it. 

Keith had not. And so Tex had suffered silently, plastering on a false smile as Keith prattled on about the piloting program and following in his father's footsteps to greatness. Bless the oblivious little boy for not realizing that his father had fallen so far from greatness, had never even reached greatness, and never would reach greatness. Dragging himself back to the Galaxy Garrison had been one of the most trying feats of his life, but Tex had managed it. Anything for his boy.

Standing amid the formidable facades of dormitory and lecture hall, Tex felt a sudden wash of mirth overcome him. For a brief moment, he was transported back to the days when he and Ern would covert around the halls with their crew, causing a ruckus, raising hell, and loving every moment of it. 

"There." he pointed towards the top of the tallest lecture hall. "That's where the cow was."

Keith followed his finger. "How'd ya get it up there?"

"A lot of pushin' and pullin."

"Whose cow was it?"

Tex chuckled. "Ern's father's."

Keith hummed, trying to imagine how a group of rowdy alpha teens managed the difficult task of smuggling a heifer into the campus compound, into one of the school buildings, and up the staircase without being detected. Were he to hazard a guess, he would say all the cameras mounted on the building walls and light posts might have been deemed necessary partially because of his father. He had a lot to live up to.

Scanning the line of the buildings, he began pondering the adventures he might have. "I wonder if I could jump from one building to the next. There are so many ledges."

"I thought I told ya to knock it off with that parkour bullshit?"

"You did."

His father ought to know better. Maybe he would not go leaping from one building to the next, though he had an irresistible urge to try, but no doubt he would find some trouble to get into. The few trees in the commons were stunted; hardly worth the effort to climb. The buildings though...there were ledges and sills galore. The artistic architecture lent itself to climbing. Why put inlaid columns and steps with ample grab room if not to climb? The entire campus was a jungle gym.

"Whatever yer thinking," Tex growled in warning, "stop."

Keith keened, turning innocent eyes to the man. 

"There are rocks in the desert for you to climb. Do not get kicked out of this fancy ass school for something as idiotic as climbing the library."

He hadn't even considered the library, but when Keith turned to gaze at the building his eyes were magnetically drawn to the brick spire. His eyes widened, gleaming in mischievous interest.

"BOY."

"I wasn't gonna!"

His father snorted. "Sure. Of course ya weren't."

With an arm around the boy's shoulder, he steered them towards the training field where a proud set of bleachers loomed over the stretch of grass. Tex watched Keith bound straight to the top, peering curiously over the ledge, taking in all he saw. It was a grand view, he would give the garrison that. The campus grounds glittered white and orange in the drawing evening, clay colored sand stretching for miles around, dotted here and there by the occasional wild shrub, and far in the distance the beginnings of the rocky gorges loomed into existence. He was reminded of why he had enjoyed the garrison so much, back in his own schooldays. 

Sighing, he plunked down on the uppermost bleacher, turning his eyes to the navy sky and the first glittering stars peeking from the canvas. 

Keith thought he recognized the wistful expression on the man's face. It pained something primal inside of him, seeing his father's far off gaze and tight frown every time he glanced at the night sky. The stars had been his father's dream once upon a time as well. As much as Keith could cobble together from the tales of his father and the alpha brigade, Tex had almost had his dreams. The ultimate goal of piloting, traversing the galaxies as a pioneering explorer, had been just within the man's grasp, only to be ripped away by---something. He had yet to figure out what it was that had happened, whether his father had been the hapless victim of some accident or the man had been the instrument of his own undoing. It was not a topic his father was open to discussing.

Sliding next to the man, he drew his knees to his chest and sighed. "Dad?" The man hummed. "...I'm scared."

"Scared?" Tex echoed. Turning to get a good look at his son, he was struck by how small Keith truly was. Five foot five, slender as a rail, hardly a pound of fat on him; given his mother's height, Tex had expected the boy to be-- 

He shook his head, clearing the thoughts. Snaking an arm around the boy's shoulder, he pulled Keith close to his side, frowning at the way the boy shivered in the cold night air. 

"I know yer scared. I'd honestly be surprised if ya weren't. But it will pass. You're just fretting because you have the luxury of thinking right now. Once you start classes and have loads of work to do, you won't be thinking about how much you miss yer old man nagging at you."

Keith smiled softly. "Do you really think so?"

His father nodded. "I'm certain of it." He paused and looked at his son thoughtfully. "I'm so proud of you, Keith."

A rush of blood filled Keith's cheeks, his face heating uncomfortably. He knew his father was proud, could tell every day from the fond way the man gazed at him, but it was an entirely different thing to have the man declare it aloud. 

"Geez, dad..."

He edged closer, resting his head against the man's shoulder. The heady scent of pleased alpha touched his nose and he fought not to smile, knowing that he was the source of his father's joy. Maybe there was something to Tex's famous line of 'you're my pride and joy'. Hard as it was for Keith to believe, his father _was_ pleased at the strides he had made. It was no easy feat, getting to where he was; Tex knew that. 

Keith knew that as well. He had worked far too long and much too hard to give up. He would tough it out. He owed it to his father to at least see where the Garrison might lead him. Giving in was not in the Kogane nature.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fateful meeting...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter dedicated to the awesome Jin, over on tumblr (jin-06.tumblr.com) who made some absolutely beautiful art of dad Kogane! Tex never looked so handsome!
> 
> And then we had a dad cameo in that staff art piece! AND new season in a week! Oh, I hope we get more dad Kogane!

Waking up to the whitewashed ceiling of a dorm room brought back memories. Too many memories. All of them soured with time. Tex grimaced at the alabaster paint, rolling onto his side and pushing the memories away. No use crying over spilled milk or wasted potential. His time had come and gone. There was a new Kogane on the rise.

In the gray light of morning, he found his son curled into a protective ball, huddled beneath layers of blankets, resting his head on the balled up leather jacket he had given the boy just last morning. Amazing. It felt as if a week had passed. 

The man snorted softly, reminded of the days when Keith was small enough to fit in the crook of his arm. The boy had a habit of waddling off as an infant. More often than not, he would find Keith curled up in his jacket, a little ball of contentment. Not much had changed, he realized, sitting up and running a hand through the boy's hair.

As if on cue, Keith's head jerked upright and he blinked bleary eyes at his father. "Morning?"

"Morning." Tex nodded. 

"Are we going home now?"

"Try again."

Keith did his best not to pout. It had been worth a shot, he thought, sitting up and staring dismally at his spartan room. He was never one for materialism, but at least his room at home had some semblance of being lived in. He did not like this room. This room was cold and clinical. And it smelled, he thought with an offended huff.

"What _is_ that smell?"

Tex paused in his stretching to sniff the air. The stench struck him hard and he nearly gagged. "Teenage hormones."

He was well familiar with that scent; Keith was a hormone diffuser. After every heat, he was washing the boy's blankets usually three times to get the stink out. Faced then with the smell of a hundred plus odors of teenagers, Tex suddenly did not mind the boy's smell. At least it had just been his boy, one tiny stinking omega. He was not fond at all of the smell of a hundred plus omegas. 

Shaking off his blanket, he got to his feet and reached for his keys. Keith was by his side in an instant, staring up at him with imploring eyes.

"Where are you going, dad?"

"Breakfast." he said gruffly, thinking where they could find something to eat. The best option would be that little town the boy he had bought the pizza from had pointed out. It would also give him the opportunity to scope out the type of trouble his boy could get into. Tex assumed there were bars nearby. Probably a bunch of porno shops as well. He did not know which was worse.

"Come on." he jangled the keys in his son's face. "I'll let ya drive."

=====

His appetite was small that morning. Keith knew he ought to be gorging himself; it was not often that they ate out and he would need the fuel for the day. There were still 24 hours to go before school formally began and he had proper distraction. It would be hell to get through if he didn't properly prepare himself. And yet knowing that all he could find the will to eat was a small stack of pancake and a bite of bacon. Across the table, his father was sipping on his second cup of coffee, having devoured a full plate of bacon and fried chicken over waffles. 

_His_ mood wasn't soured, Keith thought dejectedly. And why would it be? The last seventeen years of his life had been, 'no, boy!' this and 'damn it, boy!' that. Of course his father was looking forward to this day--his first day of freedom in nearly two decades. Who knew what the man would do, now that the shackles of parenthood had been broken?

"Why ya sulking?"

"M'not sulking." Keith grumbled.

Lord, Keith was bad at lying. It was too early for Tex to start down the tired path of stoking his son for school again. Soon enough he would be patting the boy on the back, assuring him of his place in the world, maybe even rocking him gently as he had in the old days to try and get Keith's mind back where it ought to be. He understood fear, he just couldn't abide by it.

Grabbing a third cup of coffee to go, they left the small diner and meandered around the town proper. It was nothing great, deep in the desert as it was, but it was still larger than their hometown and drew a good profit from the nearby garrison. Tex thought it odd he could not recall the alpha crew coming to the town during their school days, though the town must have been there. Then again, with Ern proving to be a constant supply of meat and produce, they didn't have much reason to leave the campus grounds. When they felt restless, they wandered the desert like vagabonds. 

"Do me a favor," he drawled, wrapping an arm around Keith's shoulder, "and avoid the north ridge outside of the campus."

Keith raised a brow at him. "The north ridge?"

"Place is a damn maze out in the badlands there; easy to get lost."

There was a story there, Keith was certain, but he didn't have the motivation to ask after it. He stared at his feet sullenly as they walked, frowning at nothing and everything. His emotions were seesawing like mad and one minute he was eager to go back to the dorm and make himself at home, the next moment he was ready to fling himself into his dad's chest and demand to be taken home. 

While they wandered, his father pointed out places of potential interest. If ever he needed something, rather than have his father drive two hours to deliver a parcel, he could walk to town. There were restaurants and supply stores galore. Much more convenience than could be found in their own tiny town. 

"They even have a grocery store."

"I don't have money to buy groceries." he grumbled. "I'm not allowed to get a job."

Tex growled softly. "Your attitude is growing old, Keith."

"...Sorry, sir."

Were all omegas like this, Tex wondered. He had heard rumor that omegas were regularly moody and sulky when they didn't get their way. Fortunately for him, Keith had never been prone to tantrums and pouts. All the better for both of them; he had been a clueless parent as was; any further added drama would have likely made him crack. 

The clinginess he could definitely attribute to the boy's nature. Every alpha he had ever known had all but ran from the house as soon as the opportunity presented itself. None of them had ever looked back. As much as it had hurt him initially, Tex had been so proud when Keith had run after his dreams. 

But it had all turned sour. Not a day later and his boy had been bawling, begging to go home with his daddy. Maybe his coddling had something to do with that. Despite his adamant declaration that he would raise his boy as an alpha, despite Keith's nature, Tex knew he had fallen into the habit of doting. 

_Ya reap what ya sow_ , he thought, rubbing at the back of Keith's neck reassuringly.

"Come on, now. Let's get ya back to school. We can finish up there."

"Finish packing?" Keith asked hopefully.

The dirty look his father shot him was answer enough. 

======

Tex could barely see Keith with all of the blankets he was piling on the boy. Each time he laid a new blanket on, the boy's head popped out and he demanded another.

"I know you have air conditioning in here, but you have got to be suffocating underneath all of that."

Keith shrugged, making the mound shift ever so slightly. If it was hot, he did not notice. He had always been unaffected by the temperatures. Hot never bothered him; cold was inconsequential. Honestly, he preferred it hot. Wrapped up in five blankets on a sunny day was just how he preferred it. 

Tex sighed, dropping his coat on top as the final layer. He tried not to look at his son, lest he get snared by the accusatory eyes staring back at him. His son thought he was abandoning him. That hurt more than he would admit.

He didn't want his son to be miserable; of course he wanted Keith to be happy. He was certain the garrison would fulfill every desire his boy had. One day, very soon, he knew his son would be piloting for the garrison, reaching to the stars and beyond. There was nothing that could hold his son down, if Keith could just overcome his fear. His son would exceed him in every way.

Then again... Tex frowned; he had to consider that there was a part of Keith's nature that couldn't be overridden. What did he honestly know about omegas? Not much. He had been a poor father, never having invested in a book or expressed much interest in learning about omega needs. Maybe omegas really did need to have a family unit around them at all times. He would have to do some brushing up on the subject. Better late than never, he supposed. The more he knew, the better he could help his boy cope. 

"I'll level with ya, boy."

Keith keened in interest, sitting up slightly. 

Tex sat on the edge of the bed, patting his son's back soothingly. "I know you're scared, but I also know, without a doubt, that this is where you're meant to be. But I also value your judgment; you know yourself better than anyone, even me."

Where was this going, Keith wondered, clenching the folds of blanket in his fists. His father eyed him a moment before continuing.

"Try it for a month." Tex said. "If after a month you still hate it, I'll bring ya home. I promise."

"A month?!" Keith exclaimed.

"A month." his father repeated sternly. "By then you'll have gotten over your fear and loneliness. You'll have friends and be deep in your classes. You'll be happy."

A month seemed an exceedingly long amount of time to Keith. A week he could manage; he was determined he would at least make it a week. Beyond that? He was honestly uncertain of his own conviction. 

_Don't be stupid._

He had struggled so long just to get there--his father had given so much for him to go to school. He owed them both; he had to at least make a fair effort of it.

"A month then." Keith mumbled. He could force himself to survive a month. Anyone could survive anything for a month. It wasn't as if he was enduring torture. there was food, shelter, and company to be had. It was time to grow up.

His father pat his head, as the man had done often when he was a child.

"I'll come and get you every Friday and we can spend the weekend together."

"Okay..."

"And you're gonna call me every night, remember? I didn't fork out all that money for some fancy ass phone just for you to look up cat videos."

A smile at last twitched at the corners of Keith's mouth. The morning before his departure, he had awoken to a wrapped box at the foot of his bed. Gifts were rare and cherished in their household; as such, he tore into it with gusto, flinging open the cardboard box therein and dropping the new device into his lap. His father had watched from the doorway with a smile as he turned the phone this way and that, puzzling over how it worked. In the end, they had spent the entire day trying to uncover the secrets of the phone's mechanics. 

Keith ran a hand beneath his misting eyes. "Okay, dad. I'll call every night. I'll be good. I'll make you proud."

"You always make me proud. Just do your best. Don't be afraid to be you; I want ya to have fun. Go and run around the track, explore, make friends. Just this once I'll even give ya permission to talk to alphas."

"What? Wow, you mean I can--"

"Once. That's all ya get. Use the opportunity wisely."

Keith laughed, his mood brightening ever so slightly. He had the best dad, he knew it. Maybe he didn't have all the spoils other children had, maybe they didn't have lavish holidays in their household where he was showered with gifts, but he had a parent who loved him. 

"Can I call, even if it isn't night time?" he asked sheepishly.

Tex smiled, ruffling his hair again. "Of course. I'll always be one call away. You call me whenever you're sad or lonely. I'll be there." 

Always there...Keith liked the sound of that. If he put his mind to it and pondered his past, he knew that he would find his father had been there with him every step he took. Every stumble, every injury, his father had always been there to catch him in his supportive arms. He should not worry; he told himself. He would always have his father when he needed support. If his father hadn't given him up during his phase of saying 'no' to every question asked of him and that stint of running through the desert naked, he thought it safe to assume the man would stay by his side for the rest of his life. 

Strong arms wrapped around him, pulling him to his father's chest. Keith keened loudly, pressing his ear to his father's heart, drawing relief from the steady hammering. Peeling himself away was a chore and in the end it was his father's hands insistently pushing him away that broke the embrace. 

"Stop looking at me like that, kiddo; yer breaking my heart here."

Keith decided not to snap back about how _he_ currently felt. This was no easy task for either of them. He watched forlornly as his father pulled out his keys and backed slowly to the door, maintaining eye contact and rumbling soothingly at him. The door opened. Keith sat straight, fighting to maintain his breathing. His father muttered a goodbye. The door closed.

Solitude. 

Keith hated it. He was not used to a still, silent room. He could not think of a time when he could not hear the television in the other room, or his father slamming tools around while he worked on some project, or heard the man talking to his friends or grumbling to himself about nothing in particular. He was suddenly acutely aware of just how omnipresent his father was in his life.

=====

Tex was able to breathe again once he was several paces from the dormitories. The stench of hormonal teenagers--no, not just teenagers, _omegas_ \--gave way to the scent of asphalt and car exhaust. It was a far more agreeable scent. A great line of cars inched along the road to the campus exit, gleeful parents waving goodbye to their children, some dabbing at their misty eyes. Students ran here and there, most glad to be free of their overbearing parents. A few sulking teenagers dotted the lawns; Tex prayed his son would not become one of those dour looking campus decorations. 

He fished his phone out of his pocket. So far so good; Keith hadn't called him yet and made further demands to be taken home. Perhaps the boy would make it through the first few hours on his own. Once night fell though, all bets were off. Tex knew a thing or two about solitude, having lived on his own for many years before his boy had come into his life. Darkness was fine. Quiet was fine. Together though, they formed a powerful, often times frightening, union. He prayed Keith had the will to last the night.

He would see, Tex thought, swinging the car door open. Maybe his boy would surprise him and that tenacious spitfire spirit would come back with vengeance. 

"DAD!!!"

The man cringed, shoulders bunching. _Spoke too soon..._ He turned, finding Keith leaning out the window of his dormitory building. They shared a long look. 

"I love you, dad!!!"

Tex smiled. 

A small huff later and Keith disappeared from the window, running off to do he did not know what. Maybe he wasn't giving his boy enough credit, Tex thought as he got into his truck and drove away. His boy might have been struggling, but Keith was nothing if not malleable. Keith could adjust and adapt to anything. He would be just fine. Once the first night was over, Tex knew that Keith would settle in. All the boy needed was a gentle push out of the nest.

Even so, Tex was mindful to keep his phone on him at all times. Just in case. As the sun fell and the stars began to dot the sky, he left the phone on the armrest while he read, glancing at it worriedly every few moments. 

=====

The card reader beeped once more, an angry, high pitched squeal alerting all those around him that his meal card had been declined. The cashier handed the card back to him with a disgruntled expression, clearly looking to shoo him away and move on with the next student in line. Keith stared at the card in his hand, perplexed.

"It should work..." He knew his father had paid for the meal plan. The man had jabbed him in his belly and told him to start gaining weight, now that the garrison was footing the worst of the bill. 

He stood for a moment in a stupor, uncertain what to do. The school offices were long closed and Keith highly doubted his father would drive two hours so late at night, just to bring him a snack to tide him over. Of course, if the meal plan didn't work at that moment, then it wouldn't work tomorrow morning either and he would be out breakfast as well. And lunch. And another dinner.

"Move it already!" Someone bellowed from the back of the line.

His cheeks flooded with heat and Keith knew he was burning red in embarrassment. With no working meal card, his only option was to turn tail and run. Maybe he still had a few dollars stashed in his wallet, he thought, shuffling his feet. Much as he didn't want to walk all the way to town, his belly was rumbling in protest at the lack of food. This was a horrible start to his school life.

Ducking his head in embarrassment, he stepped to the side, only to have his arm grabbed an instant later. He blinked in surprise at the touch. 

"It's okay!" a tussled hair boy announced, shoving his own meal card to the cashier. "I have plenty of guest meals. Run mine!"

"Oh, uh, you don't have to--"

The boy waved his hand, dismissing any polite excuse he might make. "Of course I don't have to; I want to. That's some back luck there, not having a working meal card on your first day."

Keith snorted. Bad luck, but also just his luck. The Kogane luck. 

With the meal card run, the cashier handed the card back and ushered the next student forward. The hand on his arm disappeared and Keith felt a moment of uncertainty as to how to proceed. A thanks was in order, of course, but did he owe the boy anything else? Was there some sort of social code he was meant to follow? Did he trail the other boy or simply walk off? 

Sensing his dismay, the boy laughed, pushing his glass up the bridge of his nose. "My name is Matt, by the way. If you'd like, you can come and eat with me and my room mate. You're a freshman, right? Made any new friends yet? Eating alone can suck."

Keith smiled weakly. "Totally." 

"Well, no pressure, but you're welcome to join us."

What did he have to lose? 

Taking his silence as answer, Matt jerked his thumb towards the back of the cafeteria, towards the smaller, much quieter selection of tables. 

"Let me put my bag down first, then I'll give you the grand buffet tour. There are some things you should avoid like the plague."

Keith followed after closely, like a lost pup, listening intently. Nothing, he was certain, could be as bad as the frozen burgers that his high school had served. There was rumor among students that it wasn't beef they were being fed--some speculated it wasn't even meat. The patties were used more often as frisbees than anything else. 

The boy all but threw his bag into a seat, casting a glance around the room. "Looks like Shiro's getting food too. Come on, I'll show you around."

This he could get used to, Keith thought as they grabbed trays and slid into the queue. The food trays were laid out in a massive horseshoe, beginning with a well stocked salad bar, leading into delicate appetizers, and then into the heavy meal items. There was so much meat. More meat than Keith had ever seen, even more than the piles of barbecue Ern made for the annual fourth of July party. Gaining those few pounds his father wanted would be no problem, he thought with a grin, shoveling a juicy slice of steak and a whole chicken breast onto his plate. A few of the other students gave him a dark look, watching him peruse the meat selections, but he ignored their sour expressions. Alphas. Always so territorial when it came to food, even when there were literal bins of it, with ample for all parties.

His new acquaintance--Matt, he reminded himself--whistled as they veered towards the drink dispensers. 

"You sure have a healthy appetite, don't you?"

Keith glanced at the other boy's plate, noting that there was little more than some salad, the tiniest sliver of chicken, and some vegetables. Beta, his mind supplied. Most betas were small of appetite. That and the boy had a distinct lack of smell that most betas he knew also had. No wonder the other boy had been so friendly.

Shrugging as answer, Keith filled a tall glass with milk and followed back to the table. There was another boy at the table now, much taller than Matt and built like an alpha. For a moment, Keith's insides squirmed nervously. All those years of his father warning him to be mindful of alphas and there he was, about to sit and dine with one. Funny how now that he had the freedom to do such things without reprimand, he was nervous. He was turning out to be much more of a daddy's boy than he had initially thought.

_Well, dad did say I could fraternize once._

As they slid into place at the table, the young alpha's head snapped up, eyes darting from Matt, to Keith, and back to Matt. His presence was a surprise, Keith could see, fidgeting anxiously. Perhaps he was unwanted company. Alphas didn't always take well to change, especially changes in their territory. 

"Hey, Shiro. My new friend Keith here was having some trouble with his meal card, so I invited him to sit with us. Cool?"

The two boys shared a steady look. Some form of silent communication was taking place, but Keith could not ascertain what it was they were non-verbally discussing. 

At last the alpha boy nodded, forcing a tight smile onto his face. "Of course it's cool. Nice to meet you, Keith."

Well, he seemed nice enough. Maybe the other boy really was just surprised by a new party member. Alphas weren't inherently jerks; observing his father and his pack had taught Keith that. Even so, he would tread lightly with this alpha until he knew exactly what to make of him. Matt was bantering back and forth with him, as happy and calm as could be. That didn't necessarily mean anything; betas and alphas made good companions, betas being as nonthreatening as they are. Still, Keith decided to take it as a positive sign.

After a few minutes, Keith reminded himself that he needed to stop staring at the alpha. He would not learn anything by trying to melt the boy's face off through the intensity of his gaze. His meal proved a helpful distraction. When they had passed by the cafeteria earlier on their campus exploration, his father had warned him not to expect too much from the campus kitchens. It would be better fair than his high school, but it was still military food. That distinction meant something to his father, if the distasteful curl of the man's lip were anything to go by, but Keith was blissfully unaware of how poor military meals could be. When the first pink slice of steak touched his tongue, the warm, flavored juice gushing as his teeth sank in, he keened happily. And loudly.

Matt and his friend paused to look at him, brows raised. There was a dopey grin plastered on Matt's face.

"That good, eh?"

Keith swallowed the lump of mash in his mouth. It was nowhere near as good as his father's carefully seasoned steaks, but for a school meal it certainly wasn't bad. 

"That's...so good!"

Matt snorted, tapping his fork against his plate. "Man, you sound like my dad. He's all about the cafeteria's peas. Loves 'em."

That was an understatement. Shiro laughed into his fist, shoveling the last bit of macaroni into his mouth. Professor Holt's love of peas was well-known among the student body. That man was the sole reason the vegetable was on the menu daily. For his part, Shiro would stick to the meats and macaroni bar. 

His eyes strayed towards the newcomer's plate. _Keith._ He turned the name over in his mind, deciding that he liked it. The boy was slim, but clearly well built. There was something wrong with Keith's smell though; it was far too weak for a young alpha. Maybe the boy was ill. Or just exceedingly cleanly and had washed away most traces of his scent. It was none of his business, Shiro tutted.

"So, Keith..." he stumbled, thinking of something to say. He had the boy's attention; violet eyes bore into him with the intensity of a star. "...are you from around here?"

Matt shot him a disappointed look. Almost he huffed in warning, but he did not want to come across as aggressive and scare the other boy away. He knew exactly why Matt had oh so graciously bought Keith lunch. Annoying as his friend was, Shiro was not going to look the gift-horse in the mouth. 

Keith shrugged at him. "We live about two hours away. My dad went to school here and made some connections."

It was a familiar enough story. Many of the students were second or third generation garrison families. 

Shiro nodded. "Same with Matt and me. Matt's father is a professor here."

"And your dad?"

A return question! They were holding a conversation! Shiro beamed suddenly. Maybe he wasn't so bad at this flirting game as he thought. "My mom, actually. She was a chemist; worked with a lot of the samples that the mission teams brought back. That's how Matt and I met; our parents worked together."

"Huh. That's cool." It was somewhat similar with his father and the rest of the alpha brigade. The team had known each other through school and their military careers, going on to form some absurd pack. He hadn't even considered that before. Perhaps he would start building his own pack. 

Instinctively, Keith hugged his jacket closer to himself, pulling in a gulp of alpha scent. The familiar, heady scent of protective father calmed his nerves and he sighed, shrugging the jacket off. Even with the air conditioning blasting in the campus buildings, the stifling heat found a way in. Many of the students had their jackets unzipped or removed while others walked about in little more than a sweat stained garrison issued t-shirt. He needed to get one of those, Keith noted, fanning himself.

A fork clattered onto the table. The air was suddenly tense and Keith's head snapped forward, hackles raising. At his side, Matt was blinking in surprise, clutching his utensils in a vise grip. His gaze swung away, towards the alpha boy. Shiro sat straight, back rigid, muscles taut. He looked ready to snap and Keith instinctively braced himself, hand sliding to the knife hilt at his back. 

"...What?"

Shiro swallowed heavily, fighting to maintain composure. "You're...an omega."


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First days always seem to suck. Keith still isn't entirely certain of what to make of the garrison, but at least he's making friends. Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally here!

The phrase 'tension so thick it could be cut with a knife' sprang to Matt's mind. In his few short years of life he had, thankfully, never been in such a dire situation where all parties were so painfully awkward, they all simultaneously wished to die and evaporate into the air. Well, he wanted to evaporate, Shiro seemed to be ready to die of embarrassment. Keith though--he had never seen someone look so offended. There was fire in the little omega's eyes and Matt did not doubt that if the situation was not diffused in a few precious moments, there would be blood spilled.

"Shiro," he hissed, kicking his friend beneath the table, "don't say rude shit like that. Apologize!"

Shiro's eyes remained locked on Keith's face. A showdown, Matt groaned to himself. Just great. So much for making friends and being an ace wingman. Well, if Shiro was going to shoot himself in the foot with his alpha antics, then that wasn't on him. It was a tragic shame though.

"Sorry, Keith; I don't know why he's being so--"

"You should have told me you were an omega." Shiro cut in, brows drawn. 

The scowl marring Keith's face twisted into something dark and ugly. Matt swallowed, worrying that violence might break out soon. There was a fork clutched threateningly in the cadet's hand. He didn't even want to know what might be behind Keith's back. He started praying that they did not find out.

"So I'm an omega." Keith hissed, voice low and trembling with rage. "Is that going to be a problem?"

"No, I--"

"Don't think I won't take you on, just because you're an alpha."

Shiro blanched at the threat.

"I was raised by alphas. I can kick an alpha's ass. If you give me reason to, I will leap over this table and stab you in the fucking eye and let me tell you, I may not have a future at the garrison after that, but neither will you."

"Jesus!" Shiro put his hands up in a placating gesture. "Enough with the threats! I wasn't going to try to throw down or intimidate you!"

"Oh yeah, then what were you trying to imply with your blunt statement?"

Shiro was beginning to see the depths of his social blunder. He would need to do some serious backpedaling if he wished to salvage this potential friendship...and retain all of his limbs. 

"I didn't mean it like _that_! I swear! Trust me, I can tell that you're not afraid to get into a fight." An unusual trait for an omega, yes, but he was not about to get into that. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to just blurt that. My parents are a bit, uh, traditional I suppose you could say. They raised me to be sensitive to other people's natures. When an omega is present, I'm supposed to mask my smell as best I can. It's polite. I didn't know so I--I was probably blasting you with my scent."

Anger was easy to let go of in the face of curiosity. Never had Keith met a contrite alpha. He raised a brow, relaxing his grip on his fork. He was willing to see where this would lead. No need to get kicked out of the garrison before the first day of school. 

The tension was slowly bleeding from the air. Shiro noted with great relief that the boy's hand was no longer hovering at his back, where he likely had a knife of some sort stashed. It, sadly, was not unheard of for omegas to carry switchblades with them for protection. Taking a deep breath, he concentrated, focusing on his scent and the pheromones he was releasing. After so many years of practicing social etiquette, it did not take much effort. The strong alpha scent hanging in the air dissipated, transforming to little more than a subtle cloud of perfume that the others would occasionally catch a whiff of.

Keith's eyes widened as he sniffed loudly at the air. Hardly a trace of the alpha remained. Had they been further apart, he would not have even known the older boy was in the room.

"How did you do that?" Keith asked, leaning heavily into the table, eyes shining in interest.

A flood of color rushed to Shiro's face. At his side, he heard Matt snicker knowingly. "I--I just did. It's hard to explain. Like I said, my parents taught me to mask my scent."

"That's incredible!" 

Keith had never met anyone before who had such a skill. Was it easy, he wondered. It could be a handy tool for someone like him. It ought to be taught in school, he decided quickly; alphas should learn to keep their scent in check and omegas should learn to hide their natures, should they find themselves in volatile situations.

"What else did your parents teach you?"

A small smile touched the corners of Shiro's mouth. Safe. They were back on steady ground, the air not only clear, but smelling sweet, like a bushel of flowers had just been pushed beneath his nose...or as if an omega were showing great interest in him.

=====

They parted at the cafeteria door some two or three hours later. As Keith shrugged on his jacket, suddenly becoming enveloped in alpha scent, Matt's eyes darted between the little omega and Shiro. There was an obvious spark there, he thought with a knowing grin. First impressions aside, all three of them had found themselves falling into a quick friendship. Keith was as unique an omega as they were ever likely to meet; bold, confident, vulgar and crass in all the best ways. Matt knew that between the three of them, they were bound to have some good times---if they could convince the omega to keep coming around. It would be better if he extended the invitation--Shiro was making a fool of himself that night; a fact that he would not let his friend ever live down.

"We usually eat dinner around 6:30." Matt offered, making sure he had Keith's full attention. "We'd be happy to have you sit with us. If this alpha idiot hasn't scared you off too much, that is."

Keith laughed at the offended look Shiro shot the smaller boy. "Sure. That sounds nice. Better than eating alone."

"Nice." For good measure though, Matt scribbled his cell phone number on a scrap of paper and handed it to the boy. "I'm not hitting on you, I swear. I remember my first night in the dorms, alone. I had a freak out and ran all the way home. If you ever start to panic, give me a call. Shiro and I are always around."

Keith glanced between the two, noting the wary expression on the alpha's face. "Sure. Thanks."

For a moment they lingered awkwardly, uncertain if more aught to be said. After a quick glance at Shiro, Matt gave a final goodbye before shuffling off. Shiro waited until his friend was out of range before taking a step closer. Keith raised a brow, curious.

The alpha rubbed at his neck in embarrassment. "Sorry about that whole--mess. I didn't mean to offend you."

A smile formed on Keith's lips. "It's alright. You don't seem to be one of those jerk alphas my father warned me about. I think I can let it go."

"I try not to be a jerk." he paused. "What did your father tell you about alphas?"

"To never trust them and to inform every one of them that I have an intimidating father who is not afraid to go to jail for murder."

Shiro laughed, a sharp, awkward sound. "...really?"

"My father is a special man."

"You're an only child, aren't you?"

Keith chuckled. "That obvious? Yeah, it's just me and my dad. He makes it a point to protect my honor."

A part of Shiro warned him to take note of this protective father that Keith spoke so lightly of. There could be potential danger there, if he took to actively pursuing the omega. The last thing he needed was an alpha father bearing down on him with a threat of death. Somehow, through the morbid thoughts of impending death via father fueled rage, he was able to find a sliver of amusement in the idea of Keith's father valiantly protecting his honor, as the boy said. 

"Your dad sounds like he really cares about you."

Keith's face contorted suddenly in confusion. "Of course he does, he's my father."

It was as simple as that, hmm? Shiro liked that. 

=====

There were three messages on his phone when Keith returned to his dorm room and dug the device from the bottom of his backpack. He rolled his eyes, clicking on the messages his father had left, all some ten or fifteen minutes apart.

_How are you doing? Are you okay?_

_Don't ignore your father's texts. You scared me earlier. I just want to know if you're alright._

_Keith, I swear to god if you do not call me in the next ten minutes, you are grounded._

He checked the timestamp; nearly an hour ago. He wagered his father was annoyed, but likely not exceptionally worried. Yet. Had the man been overcome, Keith knew that he would have at least a dozen more messages to sift through. He could not fault the man for being a dutiful father. Honestly, Keith felt sorry for his friends and schoolmates; the more he saw of other families, the more he realized he was blessed to have a father who genuinely cared about his needs and wants. He was not just an obligation to his father, he was loved, liked, and wanted. He could not always say as much for others.

The phone rang only once before Tex's gruff voice answered.

"Where were you?"

Keith sighed, settling onto his bed and curling up upon the stack of pillows there. "I was at dinner."

His answer diffused the worst of his father's anger. The man's tone grew soft. "Ya eat a big dinner? What did ya have?"

"Chicken, steak, a bit of vegetables. They had a milk dispenser too. I could have all the milk I wanted."

"A dream come true, eh? How was the dining hall? It looked a lot bigger than back in my day. Looked like ya had a lot of food options too."

Keith grunted. "I liked it. I had to elbow some alphas out of the way to get the steak, but they moved aside quickly enough."

His father chuckled. "That's my boy."

There was a pause. Keith bit his lip, considering how much he ought to tell his father. A good son would tell all, his goody-two-shoes id piped up, reminding him of how savagely protective of him his father was. Hiding the fact that he had been dining in the company of an alpha would surely come back to bite him in the ass. 

_What dad doesn't know, won't hurt him_ , reason whispered. Why get his father all riled up over an innocent meal? He had made friends; that was the important part. That one party just so happened to be an alpha should not matter. He had even gained his father's permission earlier to fraternize with alphas.

_So why are you hiding it then?_

"Keith?"

"I made some friends." he blurted, chasing away the thoughts. "I think. My meal card didn't work, so one of the boys bought me dinner and let me sit with them."

There was a long beat of silence before his father spoke, slow and haltingly. "That's good, I suppose. Tell me about these boys."

"Dad." He groaned. "They're third years. One is a biochemistry major, the other is a pilot, exploration class."

"Uh huh." Another pause. "And you all got along?"

"Yes."

"Were they appropriate with you?"

Aside from that one little hiccup... Another thing that his father did not need to know about. It had all been a simple misunderstanding. Nothing worth mentioning. Besides, anything could be misconstrued as inappropriate behavior in his father's eyes. It was a sad truth; his father saw the world exclusively through dad glasses and a simple, offhanded comment could be taken as fighting words. 

No, there was no need to bring it up, Keith decided, opting instead to talk about how the two had shared stories about professors, told him about the hidden canteens, described the best electives to take. While he spoke, Keith was momentarily struck by the realization that he liked the two third years. He was so used to passively enduring people, he had momentarily forgotten what it was like to genuinely desire someone's friendship. Dare he think it, he was looking forward to dinner the following night.

"Well, I'm glad y'er making friends." his father said as the evening was winding down. Keith glanced at the clock, surprised to find it was almost half past nine. "Go to the office and get your meal card fixed tomorrow. If there are any problems, have 'em call me. I can drop off some money while they sort it out."

"Okay, dad."

"Get to bed now, Keith. You have a big day ahead of you."

"I know, dad. I miss you."

A wistful sigh. "I miss ya too, baby boy. Get some sleep."

=====

The line clicked. For a second longer, Tex listened, hoping to hear the soft, even breathing of his son. The line was quiet. It was late, the man reasoned, setting the phone aside and picking up his book. Nine thirty was not Keith's usual bed time by any means, but he knew his son. In less than an hour, his boy would be curled up in a nest of blankets, sound asleep, dreaming about the day to come. He was a good, responsible boy. 

And yet...

Tex set his book aside again, considering. There had been just a few too many hesitations in the way Keith's spoke. Shy and reserved speech did not suit his usually excitable, invigorated boy. Immediately, he was suspicious. 

Careful consideration presented him with few options as to the root of the odd behavior. Had there been a fight, Keith would not have hesitated to tell him that he had laid out bunch of uppity classmates. Even had he lost the brawl, Keith would have admitted to it--to say nothing of the fact that he would have gotten a stern call from some supervisor or another. No, there had been no fight, he was certain of it. Perhaps Keith was still anxious, but too embarrassed to say as much. 

No, Tex decided. That was no it either. Keith was not just being reserved, he was _hiding_ something. His boy hardly ever hid things from him; they had a relationship built on trust. He was rather proud of how well he and his son got on, compared to some of the other men in town and their broods. 

He grabbed the phone, tapping his fingers against his leg as he waited. Three agonizing rings later, Ern murmured over the line, tongue thick and clumsy as he fought to wake. Tex grimaced; he had forgotten how early his friend went to sleep.

"Tex? What is it?" the man punctuated his question with a loud yawn. "D'ya know how late it is?"

"I do. Sorry. Fergot you were sleeping. I just---I just spoke to Keith and there's something he ain't telling me about it. I'm worried about him."

A tired groan vibrated over the line. "Tex. You are the worst empty-nester in existence. Yer hopeless."

Maybe so, but he had valid concerns, which he proceeded to lay out to his friend for the next hour. 

======

His father had not been lying; the view from the garrison roof was extraordinary. keith had roused just as the sky was beginning to change from black to deep navy, the stars twinkling out for the day. His stomach had churned uneasily as he brushed his hair and teeth, pulling his uniform on and taking an excruciatingly long time to set each piece straight before grabbing up his backpack and bolting through the door. 

As he passed the hallway window, he froze, pausing to stare. In the distance, a fiery blaze was beginning to rise, a blanket of shimmering orange light spreading across the shadowy land. It was an inspiring dawn. Perhaps it was not so grand as the rising suns he saw when he and his father would trek into the heart of the desert and camp beneath the looming monoliths of ancient rock formations, but it was still staggeringly beautiful. 

There was time for a moment of meditation, Keith decided. Breakfast would still be there for him thirty minutes later. If it wasn't, he had snack bars stashed in his backpack to tide him over until lunch. Setting an alarm on his phone, mindful of how long it would take him to run from dormitory to lecture hall, he made his way up the numerous flights of stairs and toward the roof exit. During the year, the students set up greenhouses and gardens on the roof, according to one of the omegas he had met loitering on the roof the previous day. 

With the school year only just beginning, the rooftop was quiet. A few of his fellow omegas were up and about, performing yoga or mediating, keeping to themselves at safe distances from one another. Mindful of his proximity, he found a spot facing the rising sun and sat, legs dangling haphazardly over the side of the building. The sun blazed behind his closed eyelids, striking his face and warming his skin. It would be another hell-ish day, the air hot and heavy and oppressive, but at that moment Keith found it wonderfully tolerable. 

Some thirty minutes later, the sky was bright and clear, the sun out and venting its fury upon the scorched sands. There was just enough time for him to run to the cafeteria and shovel some eggs and bacon into his mouth before sprinting across campus. He felt a little less embarrassed, seeing that he was not the only one streaking across the commons in first-day panic. Three of them skidded into the simulation hangar at the same time, glancing about nervously to take stock of their classmates and judge whether they were fashionably late or looking at a truancy offense. 

"Not late yet, boys," a gruff voice boomed, "but pushing it."

At once, they jerked single file against the wall, some cadets slamming a hand to the forehead in a rough salute. Keith glanced at them, considered, then thought against it. A heavyset man sauntered out from behind the simulation, one hand clutching a clipboard, the other settled on his ample hip. Without sparing them a glance or any introductory preamble, he began calling names. The first cadet was so off guard she repeated her name twice before loudly declaring,

"Present!"

A few of the names stuck in Keith's mind, foreign or unique enough for him to commit to memory. He ought to remember a few of his classmate's names, he supposed. They were all pilot trainees; they were bound to run into each other over the course of the next few years. Dare he think he, some of them might just become his friends.

"Keith Ko--" The instructor paused suddenly, squinting at his clipboard a moment. When he lifted his gaze, two dark, heavy eyes fell onto Keith. The man's might tightened, nose curling slightly. 

Keith felt the corner of his mouth twitch; he recognized that look. It was the look of someone who knew his father and saw echoes of the man in his face. It was the look of a man with distinct memories of the last Kogane he had run into. It was the look that told Keith that he was being held to standards.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Looks can be deceiving; Keith knows this and yet he still thought little of his father....until that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY! I finally have a plot for this! Thank you season 6 for information and plot ideas! We're gonna have fun, guys. Stick around! Gonna try to make my updates more regular (now that I really know what I want to do with this story).

There was something inexplicably soothing in watching his father cook that Keith could not quite place his finger upon. Upon careful consideration, he supposed that, deep down, his inner omega--or maybe just his inner child--was reacting to the comfort of having a parent looking after him and tending to his needs. Sure, he could cook his own meals and often did, having to see to his own needs while his father worked himself to exhaustion to provide for them. It was a rarity now, to have his father put great time and effort into meals when it was so much easier to plop a can of soup into a pan or eat some bland cereal. There would be no embarrassingly dismal meal that evening though; that night they were celebrating. 

The pots and pans had been laid out, the old, beaten wok dug from beneath the sink where it was used to collect rags. An assortment of cooking supplies littered the countertop. Oils, spices, batters--the kitchen was a beautiful mess of enthusiastic cooking that Keith gobbled up. It was entrancing to watch his father slaved over the stove, stirring noodles, battering shrimp and vegetables, the man's eyes bright with mirth as he worked his culinary magic. 

"Keith!"

He blinked out of his dazed state, sitting at attention. "Hmm--yeah?"

"Go to the cabinet beneath the stereo. I have a bottle of sake stashed there."

"You're going to let me drink sake?"

His father laughed loudly, shooting him a wicked grin over his shoulder. "You wish, boy. The sake is for _me_ , but if you're good I'll let you have a sip or two."

Motivation, indeed! "Yes, sir!"

He bent to the task with gusto, shuffling through his father's collection of old vinyls until his fingertips met cold glass. Where the bottle had come from and how long it had been in hiding, Keith did not know. Aside from the occasional beer after a long work shift (or when the other alphas were around), his father was actually quite puritan when it came to drinking. Afraid his young, impressionable son would get bad ideas, Keith supposed, wiping the dust from the bottle and puzzling over the kanji on the label. 

"Keith." There was an edge of warning in his father's tone when the man called him next. 

"I wasn't gonna drink it." he said, trotting over with the bottle. 

His father grabbed it, examining the label briefly before pulling the cork out with his teeth and taking a deep drink. Proper etiquette called for a glass, but proper was not the way things were done in the Kogane household. Room temperature sake straight from the bottle was all the the formality needed for Tex. 

With the flash of a grin and a tussle of the hair, Keith was sent back to the table, out of the way, lest he get underfoot. He would have liked to help, but Keith content watching, as he had years ago, marveling over the culinary expertise his father so rarely displayed. As a child he had sat the alpha's feet, staring up in wonder as his father moved like a master, every few moments turning his warm gaze upon his child and rewarding him with a scrap of whatever feast they were about to partake in.

Sometimes--only sometimes--Keith didn't mind reliving the glory days of his youth, when his father doted upon him and his every whim was catered to, no matter how fanciful it might have been.

He keened, high and pleased, when food began appearing on the table. Plate after plate came; platters filled with meats and vegetables, dishes of sauces, bowls of rice--anything and everything his father could get his hands on to make a truly traditional Japanese feast was present at their humble table. Even the fine china had been brought out of hiding, scrubbed and polished until Keith could see his reflection in the porcelain. The man must have driven for hours to find the nearest Asian market. Unless Ern had expanded his selection of meat cuts, he did not believe the squid was local. 

"Wow...This looks great, dad!"

His father grinned at him, appreciating the compliment. It had been so long since he had rolled his sleeves up and made a proper meal, Tex had been uncertain if he would be able to pull it off. An idle fear. Even if he had burned the rice and under-cooked the tempura, Keith would inhale it all, regardless. Boy had no sense of taste. 

For a few blissful moments they sat in peace, the quiet broken now and then by the clinking of plateware, utensils clattering, and the hungry smacking of lips. For his part, Tex stole a moment to watch, filled with the familiar pull of parental awe as he was struck by just how much his boy had grown. There were days he still thought of Keith as the tiny fifteen-year-old, running off into the desert to roll and play like a cub. In the week his son had been at school, he felt Keith had grown even more. Gazing at his son, he thought that perhaps he might have caught a glimmer of the man that his boy might become and Tex could not have been prouder.

He was caught in his silent contemplation. 

Keith canted his head slightly, curious over the fond but distant expression on the man's face. "Why aren't you eating, dad?"

"Was just thinking." Tex reached for the sake and poured the last of the bottle into his whiskey glass. "So...you survived the first week. Tell me about it."

_Ah_ , Keith chuckled through a mouthful of shrimp and rice. Further interrogation. He had expected as much, although he had thought he might get one night reprieve, as he had spent the entire two hour drive home flapping his mouth non-stop, describing in avid detail the staggeringly well-stocked gymnasium, the baffling number of recreation vehicles available for student use, and--perhaps most importantly--the vast size of the student canteen. Like any humble boy grown up poor, he made sure he abused his food rights horribly, pointedly ignoring Shiro and Matt's curious expressions as he slipped five extra pudding packs, several milk cartons, and steak bits double wrapped in napkins into his backpack for later consumption. 

"That's weird." Matt had murmured playfully.

"It's smart." Keith corrected. He was not going to be that poor shmuck spending twenty dollars at a vending machine at three in the morning because he was in dire need of a snack. Growing up with limited resources had taught him a few tricks. 

A smug little grin turned his lips at the memory. "Uhm...what do you want to know?"

His father shrugged, cutting into his steak, vigorously dripping teriyaki sauce. "You didn't tell me much about your classes."

"Not much to say." Keith answered honestly. "It was just the first week. The first classes were almost always going over the syllabus or what text book and equipment we need. Which reminds me, my astrophysicist professor said I need a mini UV lamp."

Tex coughed, thumping his chest several times before sputtering, "What in the hell do you need a UV lamp for?"

"No idea. They just said I need one."

Yet another pricey trinket that Tex was certain would be used once and then shuttled to the back of the boy's closet where it would remain collecting dust. Bureaucracy never changed. By the time the boy graduated, he was certain they would be $50,000 in debt for the little add-ons required for each class and have a shed full of junk he couldn't even pawn for five bucks. Buy it for $1,000, can't even give it away for free. What a crock.

Keith was happy though, that was all that mattered; he couldn't put a price tag on Keith's happiness. Across the table, his son was merrily devouring his dinner, ever the black pit of a stomach, roll after roll of sushi disappearing into his gullet before gulping down half a glass of milk and turning his attention back to the tempura. 

"Chew yer food." he said fondly, taking a satisfying gulp of his drink. "Nothing of interest in yer flight classes then?"

Keith hummed, grains of rice falling from his mouth. "Just safety procedures for now. Instructor said we won't even see the inside of a simulation, much less a plane or cruiser, for months."

The man snorted, sneering at the notion. "Why?"

To his surprise, Keith turned the sneer back on him. "Apparently, in the past there were a lot of reckless students who were known to steal the vehicles in the middle of the night or crash them while playing dumb games of chicken or doing wheelies."

The implication was clear in Keith's words and his snide tone. 

Tex took a sip of his sake. "I will have you know, boy, I hold the longest record for a cruiser wheelie to this day."

"Oh my god, dad; you ruined all my fun before I was even born."

If he were capable of time travel, Tex would have gone back and given his younger self a pat on the back. A few extra safety precautions wouldn't hurt anyone--especially his accident prone, reckless son. 

"There's always the cruiser here." He suggested helpfully; which came with parental supervision. 

A soft grumble slipped past Keith's lips before he turned his attention back to his plate. He could not prove beyond a reasonable doubt that it was his father and the alpha brigade which had caused such mayhem as to now keep the school vehicles on lock down, out of first year hands all together...but Keith had his suspicions. He was not as deaf and unobservant as the alphas liked to think. While they had drank their beers around the bonfires and reminisced about the old days, he had sat on his father's knee or at the man's feet, casually drinking it all in. The cow on the garrison roof was legend. Some of the other exploits were less renowned but no less ridiculous and awe inspiring. The tales he could tell...

Of course, so much time had passed, it begged the question as to whether or not his fanciful tales would be believed. The myths and legends of Tex Kogane were naught but rumors now, gossip that circled around a nameless nobody from generations ago, the facts of each story differing with each orator. Were he to run up to one of his fellow cadets and proudly declare that he was son of the one and only trouble-maker who forked the entire training field the eve of graduation, Keith suspected he would be laughed out of the school. 

Not even useful as blackmail material, Keith seethed. 

Dinner continued on in a pleasant haze, plate after plate appearing and disappearing with hardly a break between bites. Even with bellies full and appetites sated, they continued, finishing off the pot of rice and picking each crumb of batter from the table. It seemed an idyllic moment and one they were both eager to bask in. Alas, as they well knew, peace was easily shattered.

The phone at Tex's side rang suddenly and the man made a face, contemplating whether or not he ought to ignore the call. He only had oh so much time with his boy before he had to send him back to school. Each minute was precious. However, money had become precious as well. Every dollar made was a dollar less Keith would have to pay back. 

"This'll just take a second..."

Keith flashed a smile, anticipating the outcome. "I'll clean up."

The man excused himself, grumbling unhappily before picking up his phone. Over the splash of the running tap, Keith could hear his father in the other room, bartering prices over some detailed job. He could not help his snort of amusement at the tariff his father tacked onto the price for disrupting his son's first weekend home. Ever the doting parent. He would return the favor, he thought, reaching into the cabinet for the stacks of tupperware. 

When his father appeared again he was visibly upset, a flustered look upon his face, cell phone clutched tightly in his his fist.

"Keith, I--"

"Dad, it's fine." he slipped the dishes into the drying rack and walked closer, wrapping his arms around his father's waist. Maybe he was a bit of a daddy's boy... "You have to work. I'm just going to be reading some of my textbook and then go to bed."

Tex placed a hand on the boy's unruly hair. "Still...yer father should be here for you. Especially your first weekend home."

"You are here for me. As long as we get to hang out tomorrow....it's just a night job, right?"

The man nodded. "Dingbats up at the pig farm are breaking all their shit again."

There did seem to be a steady income from the Monnet family farm. Not that he would ever say it aloud, but Keith suspected there was some sabotage afoot from the graying matriarch who had taken a shine to his father. Receiving the call so late at night raised his suspicions further. His father was still an attractive man, he supposed, in a rugged, cowboy type of way. The thought made him to ponder how his proud alpha father would take to the idea of being courted by an equally proud alpha cougar. 

He snickered, vivid scenarios playing in his mind's eye.

"What's so funny?"

Keith pulled away, grinning impishly. "Nothin'. Promise you'll be back by morning?"

"Promise."

He would take his father's word. Banishing his disappointment, he grabbed the plastic containers he had packed for his father's midnight meal and shoved them into his beaten lunch pale. Tex rumbled appreciatively. With a final reassuring pat on the head and a nuzzle for comfort--for whose comfort, Keith couldn't say--his father gathered up his tools and headed out. 

He watched from the porch, a pleasant smile plastered on his face, hand weakly waving as the taillights of the truck rounded a corner and disappeared. Soon, not even the hum of the old motor could be heard and Keith knew he was alone. A roaring silence swept in, the night sounds of bugs and distant coyote howls all the sign he had that the world continued to exist beyond the looming hills and jagged rock walls that quarantined their little home from the rest of civilization. He felt inexplicably lonesome of a sudden. 

"Don't." he growled at himself, forcing the thought away and hopping from the porch to take a circuit around the yard. 

As much as he wished that he had been able to spend his first Friday night sitting on the couch with his father, basking in the afterglow of their feast, listening raptly as his father detailed grand exploits during his own garrison days, Keith knew he had to put his wants aside for his father's needs. Now more so than ever, maintaining a steady work flow was critical. His father tactfully avoid discussion of money, but he knew that the man was already secreting away wads of cash for the dreaded day that tuition bills began arriving. 

Did he imagine his father's slimmer waist or had he truly forgotten his father's shape in the week he had been gone? Impossible, Keith thought, kicking at stray rocks in his path. If there was anyone that Keith knew better than himself, it was his father, the man whom he had seen every single day of his young life since the day of his birth until rather recently. He could no sooner forget the lines of his own palm.

No...his father had lost some weight, he was certain of it. He had been selfishly wrapped up in his own concerns for weeks as he had prepared for school, thinking it the first step towards the rest of his adult life. Little things, like his father skipping meals to save money and hiding supply bills would have slipped past his notice.

"Jeez..." Keith lifted his head and sighed at the moon, riding high in the navy sky, "I'm a poor excuse for a son..."

He would do better, he vowed. Whatever he could do to ease the burden on his father's shoulders, he would do. There were plenty of opportunities on campus to earn a bit of cash. Rather than have his poor father send him back to school each week with a wad of cash skimmed from his dismal paychecks, he could earn his play money. If he were feeling particularly mutinous, he would contact Ern and beg the man to look after his father. Ern would never let one of his own go hungry or flounder in times of need. 

His mind leaped from one idea to the next in his desperation to come up with a plan to help his father. Perhaps he would join the mechanic club and make himself useful. The more he knew, Keith reasoned, the more he could help his father. Hell, when summer rolled around, he might even be skilled enough to join his father on his jobs. A helping hand would ease the work load.

Keith paused in his easy pace, considering. That was actually a wise idea. Mechanical and engineering skills were always wise to have and came in handy at the most unexpected of times. His loneliness evaporated as excitement flooded in, making his head light. 

He was getting ahead of himself, Keith chastised himself as he changed course and strode to the shed in massive strides. He needed to learn the basics of mechanics before he could even begin to be of use to his father--but once he knew, he could help bring revenue into the household. He could help his father on jobs during the summer and earn money on the side at school and on weekends. If he got really good, maybe he could even get a job at the garrison garage, repairing the simulators and student vehicles that inevitably got destroyed. 

The shed door crashed open with a flourish and Keith stumbled in, nearly tripping on the tools and papers scattered about the floor. That was unusual, he thought, catching himself on the side of a table. The tiny work space was in disarray, the normally tidy and neatly cataloged papers tossed about haphazardly. 

"The hell, dad....don't just leave your spanner out."

He stooped, snatching the tool from the ground, bringing up the wad of paper it had been resting on as well. Placing the spanner onto the work desk, he unfolded the paper. In the limited glow of moonlight, it was difficult for him to decipher what he was looking at. It was a drawing, that much was clear, and if it was in the shed it was likely a project that his father was constructing. There appeared to be wings, so he guessed that it was a ship, but certainly not of a design he had ever seen before in any of his aviation books. He squinted, bringing the sheet closer to his face. 

"What the hell..."

Scribbles of writing were splashed across the paper, hastily scrawled, so sloppy Keith could not make out the words. He should leave it alone, he told himself, scanning the disheveled shed. Whatever his father was up to, it demanded great care and attention. He should leave well enough alone, walk out the door, and pretend he had never turned his attention to the unassuming little shed. What had he come in there for again?

He glanced at the paper in his hand. His father might notice if it went missing. Then again...there were so many papers strewn about, would the man really notice one measly paper? It was balled up, so it had to be headed for the trash bin anyway. With that uplifting logic, Keith crumpled the paper back up and shoved it into his pocket. 

The door slammed ominously as he ran into the house, leaping into his bed and ripping the paper free. Beneath the lamplight, in all it's uncrumpled glory, he could see very clearly that the drawing was indeed a ship. It was not a drawing, Keith corrected himself; what he held in his hand was a diagram. Scribbled in the margins in his father's messy hand were notations of length and width, part names he was yet unfamiliar with. Most noteworthy--and alarming--was the paragraph long footnote at the bottom of the page. He could not read it. Whatever his father had written, he went to great lengths to hide it, should his paper fall into unexpected hands. Keith could not even recall the last time his father had written in kanji. He had assumed that, over time and without use, his father had forgotten the language altogether. Clearly not. 

Keith stared at the kanji, as effective as any government code, stumped and deathly curious. Whatever it was he had stumbled across, it was important. All the more reason for him to hold onto it.

=====

The front door hissed open and clicked closed some time around three in the morning. From beneath the cover of blankets, Keith could hear his father's tired feet dragging on the floor on his way to his bedroom, pausing briefly in the hallway to gaze in at his son. He kept his breathing light, fingers tightening around the piece of paper he had hidden beneath his pillow. A moment later, his father moved on, the door to his bedroom whispering shut. 

Keith let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. He ran his fingertips against the soft paper, stomach turning anxiously. Whatever he had stumbled upon was important, he was sure. Even so...he had no right to go snooping through his father things. He had even less right to steal from him, even if it was just a piece of trash. 

"I'm a horrible son." Keith berated himself, burying his face into his pillow. 

He had committed to being an ungrateful child though. That paper was important and would tell him what his father was up to behind closed doors. Perhaps his old man wasn't nearly as boring as he thought. Perhaps his father wasn't boring at all. It was an unusually alarming thought. He knew his father had secrets; his concern was whether those secrets he had casually stumbled upon could land his father in jail for treason...or worse. 

Even more reason to find out what the paper was and suss out the truth of what his father was up to. Once he knew what he was contending with, he would know how to protect his father.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tex suspects something is wrong--he doesn't know how wrong. Meanwhile, Shiro gets roped into the brewing trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SHEITH!
> 
> And of course best dad, Tex Kogane.

Something was wrong. It didn't take Tex's keen fatherly instincts to see that. Keith, bless his little heart, was as easy to read as a book, wearing his emotions on his sleeves. Ever since the boy had first opened his eyes, Tex had been able to read the thoughts behind the violet eyes so like his own. The boy was a terrible liar to boot, so when Keith answered his query of what was wrong with a hasty and forced 'nothing', Tex knew something was direly amiss. 

He glanced at Keith, huddled against the side of the truck door, mouth tight, eyes downcast. A guilty expression if ever Tex saw one. All weekend he had suffered similar cold-shoulder treatment. One day Keith was hopping through the house, eager to be close and then the next day all conversation had dried between them. Some door between them had closed. At first he had thought it was his taking the job that had put the boy so out of sorts, but the longer he watched, the more he suspected that Keith was withholding something.

"Something happen at school?" he ventured after several minutes of tense silence. He kept his tone gentle; if something had gone wrong, he wanted his son to trust him enough to confide in him. 

Keith whined softly, having none of it and keeping his eyes trained on the passing scenery. "Nothing happened. Everything is fine."

A blatant lie. Tex nearly succumbed to growling; he did not like when his son lied to his face. Theirs was a relationship built on trust; for years it had been just the two of them, the Koganes against the world. There was hardly a thing in the world Keith did not tell him. Tex supposed that was bound to change at some point. Now that Keith had a life outside of their humble home and the tiny desert town, he had to get used to being excluded from parts of Keith's life. 

The man frowned, not liking that reality at all. 

"Is it a boy?"

"Dad!" Keith scowled. "I said it was fine! There's no boy!"

"Watch yer tone, young man."

A sulking huff was all the apology Tex received. He was willing to allow it to slide--for the moment. Maybe there truly wasn't a boy. Maybe it was nothing more than homesickness settling back in, now that the boy was on his way back to school. Tex wished it were so, though he continued to hold his doubts. Keith had been acting strange the entire weekend. Ever since he returned from his Friday night job, the boy had been quiet and elusive. Were his son just a tad younger, he would suspect guilt.

He would let it go, Tex decided. It took a great deal more will power than he expected to let his son sulk in silence for the entirety of the drive, but if that was what Keith wished to do, so be it. When the boy was ready, Keith would come to him. Or so he hoped. He was determined to respect his son's new found independence. It wasn't just a learning curve for him, the man reminded himself; Keith had to learn to deal with his own emotions and problems,

If the quiet bothered Keith though, he did not let on. Whatever thoughts were dancing around the boy's head were thoroughly engrossing and they arrived at the garrison before Keith spoke again.

"Can I expect a hug or are you still being moody?"

A dark look was shot his way and Keith hopped out of the truck, grabbing his bag in a huff. 

Answer enough, Tex thought, disappointed. If this was the result of Keith being away from home, perhaps he ought to reconsider forcing the boy to stay in school. Whatever had happened, or whatever he had done to upset Keith so, was having a drastic impact on their relationship. 

As he grabbed for the keys, a head popped through his window.

"Dad, don't go..."

Tex blinked, stunned by the immediate thaw. "What's wrong?"

Keith kicked the truck's tire dejectedly. "We didn't get enough time..."

_You were sulking all weekend_ , Tex thought. He had many theories as to what the issue was, but Tex was starting to wonder if it was nothing more than omega hormones making the boy temperamental. Maybe Keith was due for a heat soon. 

He pulled the keys from, the ignition and stepped out of the truck. "Alright, let's go find a canteen and grab some lunch. You can tell me more about your classes."

======

No matter how often he returned to the school, Tex was continually struck by how the landscape had changed. From three dorms and a few lecture halls to a sprawling urban wilderness that was just a tad daunting. How the boy managed to find his way through the concrete labyrinth on a daily basis stumped him, but with keen and unerring precision, Keith led him through commons, administrative buildings, and down secluded corridors to what he claimed was the best food spot on campus.

Tex was doubtful. Trays of grease dripping french fries, burgers, and other assorted diner food passed from counter to client. The students seemed pleased with their fare, so he suspended his disbelief. If Keith wanted unhealthy, under-cooked burgers, so be it. 

With grease-sopping bag in hand, they retraced their steps through the maze and found a spot upon the grassy knoll overlooking the training field. Below, a group of muscular young men were circling the field, jostling one another playfully or outright tripping one another. Alphas. As if the stink from the field hadn't been indication enough. The man's eyes slid sideways, towards Keith, who was happily devouring his first burger.

He was caught staring. 

"Do you know any of those--"

"Dad. You need to get over it."

Tex snorted, unwrapping his oily meal. "I have one child; you can understand my concerns."

Understand, yes, but Keith was long over abiding by the man's paranoia. With a shake of his head, he reached into the bag and shoved a handful of fries into his mouth. "Not my fault you didn't have more kids. You're not that ugly--someone would have made more kids with you. Probably."

Tex paused, burger poised just before his mouth. "You have my looks, boy. Watch who yer calling ugly."

"I said you weren't ugly."

"You said I wasn't _that_ ugly. Don't think that I didn't catch yer smart little comment."

"Whatever. Dad--someday, you realize, there _will_ be boys, right? You can't keep me on a leash forever."

_Watch me_ , Tex thought, chewing savagely. He had good cause to keep an eye on his boy and so long as he head breath in his lungs and at least one capable leg, he would haunt his boy's steps to ensure his safety. And even then...he could not say that were he crippled, limbless, mentally incapacitated or otherwise that would keep him from his fatherly duties. 

But Keith had a point. There _would_ be boys. There would be friends, coworkers, and--dare he think it--love interests. There had been enough interest shown in their small town. Tex shuddered to think how many boys had already flashed eyes at his boy on campus. Strange, unruly, and nontraditional as Keith was, Tex knew his son was a desirable catch. 

He was in it now, the man thought; these were the days he had dreaded since the day Keith came into the world--beautiful, perfect, and astoundingly human. Tex knew one day, somehow, in some wild instance, the polished veneer he had created for his son would begin chipping and he would be accountable for the secrets he had kept from his boy. 

He dropped his half eaten burger, no longer hungry. "Keith, you know that more than anything, I want you to be happy and successful in all you do."

Keith keened, setting his food aside as well. He hated when his father seesawed between jovial and serious. It always put him on edge as to what his father might want to discuss. "Of course I know, dad."

"I..." Tex sighed. "Of course I know that there will be boys. And, like I've said before, I want you to have friends and, yes, even to date. Just--give yer old man a break and let me meet them."

"You'll scare them off." Keith said flatly. 

"Not intentionally, but if you bring home an alpha boy who's a chump and not worthy of you, then damn right I'm gonna scare him off."

A smile twitched at the corner of Keith's mouth. He had few friends, but the handful he did have would surely meet with his father's approval. Even with the massive strike against him of being an alpha, Keith was confident that Shiro could win over his father's good will. He was less concerned with how Matt would be received. 

There was no use arguing with the man; his father was going to be the overprotective dad TM, no matter what he said or did. All he could do was prove to the man that he was not so naive as to fall for the stereotypical alpha boy who wanted to put a ring on his finger and a baby in his belly. Perhaps once his father realized he had sense and taste, the man might ease up. It would take some time--probably the first four years of his undergraduate studies--but Keith was confident he would bring his father around.

The remainder of the meal was eaten in silence. Tex considered pushing, asking more questions and trying to wheedle information from his boy, but he knew that Keith had inherited his own stubborn nature. Pushing would only cause the boy to push back on him. Perhaps another week and Keith would be more comfortable in his new setting and willing to offer more than vague details of classmates and 'boring' courses. 

"Study hard." he advised, ruffling his son's hair before climbing into the truck.

Keith nodded firmly, having every intention of making his father proud. After promising to call the next day, he stepped back and watched the beat up truck as it disappeared in the distance. He stood at the school gate, watching until the trail of dust kicked up by the tires faded and there was no hint left of his father's presence. 

The smile fell from Keith's face. His thoughts turned back to the paper, crumpled at the bottom of his book bag. He could still throw it away and pretend that he had never stumbled upon it. He could pretend that he had not trespassed on his father's secret work and unwittingly stumbled upon some secret the man was eager to keep hidden. 

He could...but Keith knew he wouldn't. 

=====

Things were beginning to get dangerous. He was losing control over his alpha side and Shiro despised such weakness. Fortunately, he was not so weak as to be caught salivating at his new friend's feet or throw himself at the omega's feet in worship, but he feared that he might get there--soon. It was just a crush, he reassured himself, peeking through the library shelves at the young cadet sitting by his lonesome at a table, stooped over a book, frustrated scowl on his face. A longing sigh escaped him and Shiro drew back, biting his tongue a moment later.

"What the hell is wrong with me..." he murmured. 

He had known Keith a week--only a week!--and his pining was reaching heights he had not thought himself capable of. He had never been so moved before by the one or two boyfriends he had entertained before. To be moved by a pretty face that regarded him as friend and nothing more was...

Well, infuriating, if Shiro was honest with himself. Should he have screwed together all his courage and confessed to Keith that moment that he thought the boy was attractive and sweet and he wanted to go steady, he thought there would be little surprise. Alphas and omegas were infamous for getting attached quickly. Shiro refused to bow to his nature though. A week was hardly enough time. He barely knew anything about Keith, other than the fact that he was the only omega child of a protective alpha father, that he lived some two hours away in a tiny village, that he loved the outdoors and had a penchant for climbing, that he was a skilled pilot and student, that at dusk when the sun fell just right, the boy's eyes it up like amethyst and it stole Shiro's breath...

_Focus!_ He commanded, slapping his book against his chest. 

Focus, for all he touted the practice, was easier said then done when a sweet omega was involved. With a sheepish smile, he leaned around the shelf to gain a better view of the cadet. Keith was still slumped over his book, frustrated expression marring his usually joyful face. A tuft of hair was held in grip so tight, Shiro feared Keith might soon tear the lock from his head. 

He would love to have a lock of Keith's hair. 

Perhaps something was wrong, Shiro thought, forcing his thoughts back onto a track of reasonable thought. Homework, even the tedious and confusing sort, did not usually cause students to tear their hair out so early in the school year. Whatever the issue was, Shiro was confident he could offer assistance. If it were a matter of homework, he would only be so happy to help his new friend.

He approached the table confidently, wide smile upon his face. Even at Keith's lifeless stare, his grin did not waver.

"Stuck on a problem?"

Keith sighed, dropping his pencil and hastily pushing the sheet of paper beneath his notebooks. "No. It's not that. I--it's something personal."

"Personal?" Shiro echoed, grin falling. "Do you want to talk about it?" He hesitated to take a seat, not wanting to be presumptuous. 

A strained silence passed between them. Shiro took a small step backwards. A soft keen escaped Keith's mouth and they both paused, uncertain. The silence drew on, growing more and more unsettling until light came suddenly to Keith's eyes. He had been struck by a thought of brilliance.

"Wait...you told me that Shiro isn't your real name, it's short for something."

Shiro blinked. "Uh, yeah. It's short for Shirogane; that's my last name."

All at once, Keith's face lit up. "You're Japanese!"

"Yes?"

Keith fingered the crumpled piece of paper he had stashed away. His luck seemed to be turning. Just as he was about to give up on his endeavor, in walked the answer to all of his troubles. Had he not been fond of the alpha already, he would have been lost to Shiro then. 

"Shiro," he lowered his voice conspiratorially, presenting the paper to his friend, "I need your help translating something."

Dear God, Shiro wished Keith hadn't pitched his voice so low; he could imagine that sultry voice beckoning him in lurid ways. His alpha side was sitting up in attention. Forcing the thoughts away, he took the wrinkled piece of paper and scanned the writing. He has surprised to see kanji; although he had suspected that somewhere along the line Keith's family was Japanese--you didn't have a name like Kogane without some heritage--he had thought the omega was American through and through. 

"You know Japanese?" he asked dumbly.

Keith shook his head. "No; that's why I need you to translate it for me."

Shiro looked again at the scribbled kanji. He doubted it would take him long. If it would ingratiate himself to Keith, he would toil over it for a week. 

A becoming smile lit on the alpha's face once more. "Anything. I'll get this done. For you."


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who is Tex really? Even Keith does not know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh....surprise?

His master plan--which Matt had affectionately dubbed 'Operation-Get-Shiro-Laid'--was going far better than he had expected. When dealing with an alpha as timid and respectful as Shiro, one could never tell what the outcome of a meeting might be. True love was just as likely to bloom in an instant, as hearts were likely to be crushed by a thoughtless word or deed. Although Matt knew his friend's deepest desires, perhaps even better than the alpha knew them, Shiro was an expert denier. If Shiro did not think he had a chance, the boy would not make a move. It was a stark contrast to how the alpha behaved in other aspects of his life, but Matt supposed that when it came to matters of the heart, even bold alphas would not want their hearts broken. 

It made his job as wingman all the more necessary. Keith and his naive obliviousness made the task all the more difficult. Whereas any other omega would be able to smell Shiro's interest a mile away, Keith either did not recognize the signs or was politely ignoring them. Matt rather thought it was the former, but he could tell that Shiro was convinced it was the latter. There was ample work for him to do before he even broached the subject of the omega's overbearing alpha parent to Shiro. _That_ , he knew, would be a hurdle Shiro would need his assistance to overcome, whether Shiro liked it or not. For all that Shiro was, smart, talented, handsome, athletic, an enthusiastic charmer with a real heart of gold--he was an alpha's alpha. If there was a stereotypical definition of what an alpha ought to be, Shiro's portrait would be smack next to it. And that, Matt knew, was trouble for some parents. Even his own compassionate, level-headed parents had been wary of him being so close to such an alpha. Two love-lost souls against the world, he sighed. Shiro's quest for love was worthy of his attentive care. They were both lucky to have him pulling the strings in the background. 

Then again, perhaps Shiro was not as helpless as he thought. Leaning out the doorway of his dorm room, he could see Shiro on the couch, hunched over a crumpled piece of paper with some books of Japanese translation sprawled over the tiny coffee table before him. It was most certainly not homework. As long as Matt had known the alpha, Shiro had never been in the habit of writing to distant relatives in his mother country. Curious, especially when coupled with the fact that the paper held a distinct whiff of gentle omega scent. 

"Whatcha doing?" Matt asked, leaping onto the end of the couch not occupied by Shiro's considerable bulk.

The alpha barely glanced up to regard him. "Translating."

"Translating." Matt echoed, craning his neck to peer at the rumpled sheet in Shiro's hands. It was like looking at Greek. Numbers and code he understood, but the mess of syllabic symbols and meaningful lines meant little to Matt. "Who is it for?"

He knew already, but he wanted to wheedle his friend just a bit.

Shiro's eyes flicked to his face momentary before narrowing ever so slightly. "A friend." he offered tightly.

"A petite, cute, omega friend?"

"Matt."

"It's a fair question; you've been mooning over Keith since you saw him. I'm proud of you, Shiro. You really stepped up to the plate, took control of the situation yourself. Now you're doing favors for him. It won't be long now until he's yours."

"I'm not--" the alpha sputtered wildly, aghast at the accusations, "I'm not _mooning_ over him!"

Matt's expression said otherwise. Well, that was just Matt's incorrect opinion Shiro seethed inwardly. Matt was prone to looking too deeply into situations, desperate to find patterns and connections, as if he were dissecting a scientific problem. Real life was far more complicated. A simple favor, however time consuming to him or important it was to the other party, was just a favor--it did not mean anything. He was merely a friend assisting another friend. There were no ulterior motives, Shiro vehemently declared to himself. Wishing to put himself in Keith's good graces did not mean a thing, other than that he thought highly of the cadet. 

A heavy sigh slipped past his lips. It was a pretty lie, but Shiro was not certain how long he could reasonably hold on to the delusion. When they were far apart, it was easy to think of the omega as nothing more than a blossoming friendship. Face to face, close to Keith's sweet omega scent and unusual yet fetching personality, he held serious doubts as to the casualness of his feelings. Maybe there truly was something to the old myth that alphas and omegas could never be 'just friends'. 

Shoving the thought away, he turned his body away from Matt, focusing on the task at hand. Thoughts of love and lust and exactly what he felt for his new omega friend were better saved for another time, when he had leisure to turn over the many ideas running through his head. That, and he needed silence, a bit of space away from it all, without Matt's well-meaning but irritating insistence that he accept what he felt and launch himself headfirst into courting.

Thankfully, his friend took the hint and Matt shuffled back to his room, mumbling loudly to himself about love-struck fools and mating seasons.

_As if_ , Shiro grumbled to himself. If he had to suffer through an entire mating season of pining and emotional unrest, he would do them all a favor and lock himself in a cellar until his hormones abated and it was safe for him to reemerge. There was nothing worse than an alpha whose brain had turned to hormonal mush. As was, he knew his next rut was going to be a literal and figurative pain. 

=====

His father looked tired. His father always seemed to look tired these days, as if in his absence life had not become easier, as Keith had thought it would, but had grown increasingly more difficult for the man. Keith could find no cause for such an idea though; although he cleaned the house and saw to the more menial household chores, his father was surprisingly adept at maintaining a household. He held an alpha's touch, practical and clumsy and lacking any real finesse, but the house was maintained. 

"Did you not sleep?" Keith asked, trying not to stare openly at the black circles ringing his father's eyes.

A smile twitched at the edge of Tex's mouth. "Damn coyote was in the yard all night yipping."

"Did you shoot it?"

"Tried. Thing is clever; ran whenever I went outside, then came back ten minutes later just to taunt me." 

The beasts were devious like that, Keith thought. Every year, he could count on more than a handful of restless nights, his blissful sleep interrupted by the high pitched wailing of the coyotes. It had frightened him as a child, that shrieking and moaning, so foreign a sound in the usually still desert night. The shrill screeches would send him tumbling from bed and running down the hall to his father's room, scrabbling into the man's arms and pressing his face tightly to the man's thick neck and the soothing scent he found there.

As puberty reared its head and his instincts moved from fright to fight, he had taken to chasing the damn things. On one auspicious occasion, he had even caught a coyote, spotting the beast skulking around the corner of the house and launching at it in a wild frenzy the likes he had never felt before. The shrieking was even worse when right next to his ear, but he was less frightened of it and more intent on beating the animal senseless. Keith was certain he would have succeeded in his barbaric attempts to throttle the animal, had his father not come running towards the commotion and yanked him off the flailing coyote. 

The beast had darted away while his father held his squirming body, but Keith knew that, even if he hadn't succeeded in killing the coyote, he had at least taught it a valuable lesson. That particular coyote he was sure never bothered them again. Pity it hadn't passed word around to the rest of its pack. Perhaps if they started skinning the ones they caught and hanging the pelts about the yard, rumor would start circulating among the creatures to avoid their dark house of death. 

He and his father shared a few laughs over the memory, although Keith grimaced when reminded of the series of rabies shots he had to endure afterward the tussle. It had been worth it, he supposed. If nothing else in life, he gave his father ample stories to share with his alpha friends. Their lives were nothing, if not interesting.

A long drive later and they were home. It looked smaller than Keith remembered. The house appeared older, a bit dirtier. had the roof always slanted like so? 

Keith leaped from the truck, backpack slapping heavily against his spine at every skip. At his back, he heard his father sigh and mutter something about his endless reserves of energy. 

"I'll make dinner!" he called over his shoulder, already through the door and tossing his bag aside. 

"Good boy." Tex murmured, following shortly after, pausing on the stoop to press in a nail coming loose, before stumbling inside and falling into the living room sofa. 

Those drives to the Garrison each weekend were going to kill him. Two hours there, two hours back, little to no pause. save maybe a piss break. The second leg of the journey wasn't so bad with his son's company, but he was getting old now. He could feel his body changing, reacting to long journeys the way it never had before. It was a discouraging thought and the man grimaced. 

He could always ease the burden on himself and give the boy a car. He laughed at the idea almost the instant it crossed his mind. As if he could afford such a thing. 

At some point he dozed off, exhausted from his lack of sleep and the tedious drive. And then he came awake to the prodding of a bony finger sticking into his neck. Tex cracked open an eyelid, peering through blurry vision at his son. Keith cocked his head to the side, a benign smile on his face.

"Dinner is ready."

He heaved a sigh, the sweet, heavy scent of barbecued chicken reaching his nose. 

"Good boy." he said, repeating his earlier statement and easing to his feet with a self-suffering groan. He ruffled the boy's hair as he passed, grabbing a beer before seating himself at their humble table and digging in.

Little conversation passed between them as they ate, save a few stilted words of how they faired without the other. 'Fine' seemed to be the word of the day and yet neither of them entirely believed the other. It wasn't until the plates had been cleared away and the boy's schoolbooks appeared that Tex felt he had the energy and clearheaded-ness to inquire after his son's latest week of schooling.

Keith looked up from his book, curious at the question. He had thought he had offered enough at the dinner table. Apparently not. "It's fine, dad. Nothing is really happening yet. We're still just getting into things."

"No simulations or training?" Tex frowned. 

"They don't trust us not to blow ourselves up yet. We did get to see inside a simulation. First they want us to learn the controls."

"Back in my day, ya did that by getting inside a simulator and learning by trial and error."

Keith snorted. "Dad, you and the others are probably the reason that we have to go through so much rigmarole now. How many times did you guys crash the simulators?"

"Hundreds, which is exactly why you need to get in there and learn. S'not like it's an actual vehicle ya can destroy."

Keith was inclined to agree, but he didn't make the rules. He decided against telling his father that even when they did begin simulations, which was still another two weeks away, all they would be doing is learning to take off, land, and fly in formation. There were long, trying years ahead of him before he got to the courses actually relevant to being in the fighter class. 

He could tell from the way his father's brows were drawn and his downward turning lips that the man was disappointed--not in him, but for him. 

"Do ya get to do anything of interest yet? What about the gym? Or the recreation vehicles? You have a licence for the hoverbikes."

Keith shook his head. "I haven't been around those parts yet. Mostly, we hang out in the dorms and do homework. There's so much homework, we barely have time to do anything fun."

We. Tex narrowed his eyes. Who was _we_? In the short span of time his son had been away from him, the boy had only mentioned a set of friends once. Surely Keith was making ample friends. His boy was odd, but he was a good kid, kind and friendly, welcoming. Perhaps Keith had made friends with the omegas in his dorm building; God knew the boy needed some positive omega influence in his life. 

Deciding that he liked that idea best, Tex allowed the subject to drop. "Tomorrow I'll take ya out on the bike."

Light came to Keith's eyes. Some fun at last. Serious as he was in his studies, he was already tired of books and star charts. He wanted to be out in the universe, experiencing it all for himself, greedily drinking in each experience. Streaking through the desert on a hoverbike was hardly a new experience, but it was something he enjoyed. The hammering of his heart in his ears and the rush of adrenaline was intoxicating. 

"Tomorrow. Thanks, dad."

Tex hummed, leaning the back of his head against the sofa and shutting his eyes. Such a good boy he had. He was so proud. 

======

A gentle yet insistent hand upon his arm guided Keith away from the dining hall and towards the stairwell. It was not the most private of places Shiro could take him to, but the constant stamping of feet would provide ample voice cover. Not that they needed it, Shiro told himself; he was just being cautious. Keith hobbled along after without protest, eyes wide and round, a curious furrow to his brow.

"Are you alright?" the cadet asked when they had drifted to a stop, folding his arms over his chest and taking up a wide legged stance. 

Shiro forced the brightest smile he could muster, his lips stretching painfully thin.

"Fine. I just..." he paused, considering how he ought to start the conversation. Two days of plodding through his thoughts, and he still had not come up with the words. Best to just take a deep breath and launch into it then. "I did the translation for you. Sorry it took so long; it took me some time to find some of the words."

Keith's face was suddenly alight with eagerness. He stepped closer, crowding into the alpha's space. "You're done? Really? Can I have the paper back now? What does it say?"

The smile on Shiro's face grew watery. At the cadet's prompting gesture, he dug into his backpack, finding the crumpled paper stapled to his meticulous translation. He extended the papers, then withdrew them suddenly.

"You're not some kind of young spy, are you?"

The alpha's nervous laugh and the audacious question put Keith off the blissful cloud he had been flying on. He cocked his head, face scrunching up.

"A...spy? What the heck kind of question is _that_? You sure you're okay, Shiro? You're acting weird, even for an alpha."

He was acting more than a little odd, Shiro conceded, but he felt the need to be a bit wary, given the document he currently possessed. When he extended the paper again, the omega all but snatched it from his grasp, flipping away from the rumpled page of his father's writing and scanning the translated lines. His expression faltered, joy turning to disappointment, to confusion. Shiro understood; he too had been uncertain as to what he was looking at.

"Keith, is your dad an engineer of some sort?"

The cadet blinked up at him. "Huh?"

He tapped his finger on the top sheet of paper. "This is a blueprint--a fairly detailed blueprint. I had to look hard for some of these words because they aren't in a translation book of casual words and phrases. This is technical jargon."

Keith glanced again at the translation. Very little of what he read made sense to him. Among the many lines of script, he was able to pick out several of the words that had troubled Shiro. Even with his aviation-minded brain, he could make little of the document. 

He flipped again to the picture that his father had drawn. A blueprint, Shiro had said. He could see where the older boy had drawn the conclusion from; the scribbled numbers and words on the next pages seemed to be about calibration, fuel, and other vital statistics.

It couldn't be though. There had never been a ship the likes of which remotely resembled the image his father had sketched onto the paper in wispy, determined lines. It was an imaginary creature, a brain-child borne from his father's days as a pilot and nothing more. 

The old feeling of dread crept up from his bowls and knotted Keith's stomach. His father was no engineer; a mechanic, yes, but he was not capable of the engineering feat that such a detailed blueprint entailed...was he? Keith suddenly held doubt. Did he truly know what his father was capable of? The man had washed out of the Garrison and the military by the time he was born; the little he knew of his father's piloting days was limited to the exuberant exploits of young, foolish alphas. When he put his mind to it and thought deep and hard, he could not summon a single memory of his father's heroic deeds, although he knew that shoved beneath the man's bed there was a splintered wooden chest of medals and awards. 

He looked up to Shiro, feeling abruptly out of place, his head light as if his feet were floating and nothing could anchor him. The alpha stared back at him, mouth pinched into a frown, as lost as he was. 

======

The skies were alight that evening, and Tex did not mean by the stars. Shuttered away in his shed, a lantern and thermos of piping coffee his only company, he could see nothing but his slobbish work desk, covered in stained papers and discarded tools. It was a pity he had no window in the little building; they were gorgeous sparkling dots shinning in a sea of navy, but his true interest in the stars had long since diverted from his longing for exploration and adventure to something...more intimate. 

Adjusting the tuning and frequency on his scanner, he paused, frowned, and adjusted again. The static had been bubbling through the speakers all evening. With the right touch, he would be able to--there!

A series of long, deep metallic thwumping noises throbbed through the speakers. The sound washed over him, echoing in his eardrums, beating in tune with his heart, eliciting a delicious shudder of anticipation. With a triumphant grin, he snatched at his pen, sending a sheath of scattered paper flying as he snatched for a clean page. Flipping his notebook open to a fresh page, he began scribbling furiously. So much chatter, he marveled, watching as the words spilling onto his paper formed first sentences, then stories, then warnings, then more stories. 

An hour passed. The tendons of his hand and wrist were cramping, burning in warning that if he did not set his writing instrument aside soon, he would suffer for it. Still, he wrote, still he listened. Every word was like an elixir and despite some of the dire warnings, he felt internally soothed. 

"Keep talkin' to me, beautiful..."


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Birthday!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday, Keith! You're 18 now! (in this story; I know he is far older in canon lol)

"It's a bit early to be thinking of that, isn't it?"

Tex glanced to the calendar he had pinned to the kitchen wall, an ugly thing made of cheap paper and filled with pictures of cacti. An annual gift from the wildlife organization after he offered them twenty-five dollars some seven years ago. Serves him right for being charitable, he supposed, scanning the blocks of dates.

"It's two week away." he stated, eyes landing on the circled block of October 23. 

At the kitchen sink, Keith hummed, unconcerned by anything but the grease laden pot in his hands. "You sure? I didn't think it was that close."

There was no need for Tex to answer; if there was one date he knew by heart, it was his son's birthday. For the first year of the boy's life, he had dreaded the day, being forced to face the uncomfortable circumstances that had seen fit to alter the course of his life forever, to inevitably dredge up memories of everything he had lost...and what he had used to think of as a burden. How could he have ever thought of his boy so cruelly? Tex shook his head at himself, thinking that he had been far too invested in being a bachelor. Keith was the best thing to happen in his life.

He shook out his newspaper and began skimming an article on the recent meteor shower. "Anything in particular ya want?"

As if his father could afford any gifts. Not that Keith would ever say anything so disrespectful aloud. His father was busy trying to pay for his schooling and scrape together what little funds he could for his own necessities. Only an ungrateful whelp would remind his only parent of their financial shortcomings when a gift was being so thoughtfully offered. Still, he had to say something, otherwise there would be no telling what kind of idea his father would get in his head. God forbid the man consult the alpha brigade for ideas and come up with some ludicrous plan that he would otherwise never even consider.

Setting the cleaned pans aside, he joined his father at the table, putting on an air of thoughtfulness. "What can I do once I'm 18?" All at once his eyes lit up, as if a great idea had suddenly come to him. "Can we--"

"I ain't taking ya to a strip club or sex shop, so nix that idea."

He thrust his bottom lip out in a temporary pout. "Will you still buy me porno mags?"

"Sure. What else?"

What else could he ask for? Eighteen was such a falsely promising birthday. So he could legally buy cigarettes and look at porn--that hardly seemed like a big deal to Keith. Seeing as he had little interest in either of those pursuits, save maybe a cursory experimental use, Keith could think of little else to do. Once he turned twenty one, then the real fun could begin. Until then...

Keith shrugged. "I dunno, dad. I don't really care. Can't we just have a nice dinner and go camping in the canyon, like we used to do? Just you and me?"

"Camping?" Tex echoed, raising a shaggy brow. He paused at his son's enthusiastic nod.

Camping. He turned the idea over in his head, thinking of the last time the two of them had been crammed together in a thin canvas tent, shivering beneath the cover of inadequate sleeping bags. All night Keith had wormed into his side, leeching every blissful ounce of body warmth he had and leaving him as cold as a stone in a winter river. The trip had been cut short thereafter; he had refused to spend another five days suffering in silent misery while his boy stole what precious little body heat that he had. 

As if reading his thoughts, Keith hastily interjected, "It won't be like last time. That was up in Maine. And five years go."

"True...but I dunno if the gear is up to snuff anymore. I'll have to check it out and see if Ern has any to spare."

"Please, dad? Just one night? We won't even be far from home. We can sleep in the bed of the truck if we have to. Pleeeease?"

Hopefully, Ern was up to doing him another favor and lending them his camping gear. His tab of favors was beginning to run high with his friend and Tex worried that one day that friendly, understanding gaze would begin to turn sour. How many favors could you ask for before it became using someone? 

Ern would understand, Tex told himself with a firm nod. If he dropped Keith's name and the fact that it was the boy's much anticipated eighteenth birthday, any misgivings his friend had would surely melt away. Even so, he made a mental note to take Ern out for dinner and beers mas a thanks for all the man did for their humble little family. 

Tex sighed. He was a pushover and he knew it. "Well, when you whine so sweetly like that..."

=====

The carpet was gray. Amazing. Shiro had been certain that it was navy. As he leaned down close and examined the freshly cleaned rug, he decided that it was not gray, but was in fact a speckled stormy sleet and khaki pattern, an ugly pattern the likes of which the Garrison probably purchased at a massive discount per square foot because no one else would be foolish enough to buy something so hideous. 

Ugly or not, it was the carpet they had been given and the fact that he could see it was a victory. The last time he had spotted the clean carpet was the day they moved in. The dorm had quickly been overrun by their clutter by the end of day and they had not paused to clean once, until that morning when Shiro took to the task with fury. The results of his labors was quite pleasing. Before their little study party began though, he would need to empty the trash bin. A speckless floor that you could lay on--Shiro would never dare to eat off of it--meant little if the evidence of the previous mess was spilling forth from the bin some three feet away. Now that he was aware of it, he could smell the reek of rotten leftovers and half-eaten pizza. The stench was certain to be offensive to a sensitive omega. 

The door flew open of a sudden, kicked in by a wild-eyed Matt who dashed inside and took stock of the newly cleaned room in disbelief.

"Matt, don't kick the door in. If you bust it, we'll be in deep shit."

"What the hell happened here?" The beta stared, mouth agape, before his gaze settled on Shiro. A knowing grin suddenly came to his face. "Ah, I see. Trying to impress our little friend Keith when he comes to study?"

"It's only polite to provide a clean room to study in." Shiro said tightly, tying off the overflowing garbage bag. It was a reasonable excuse, he huffed. No need to let Matt know that he was closer to the truth than he was comfortable admitting. 

Matt did not press the issue, though his expression remained smug as he sauntered over and plucked up one of the trash bags Shiro had tied off. They really had let the dorm room go--an impressive feat, given that they had only been in school a little over a month. Alas, Matt thought, alphas and betas weren't known to be the most cleanly of the lot. Or that was their excuse; he rather thought it might have more to do with the fact that he was a slob and Shiro had grown up with a maid and his alpha brain couldn't comprehend how to clean. 

As they trudged to the trash chute, gagging at the stench of their own accumulated filth, Matt leaned over to elbow his friend playfully. "So, I heard some interesting news today."

Shiro grunted at the elbowing. "Yeah?"

"It's about our little Keith."

"...yeah?"

"Rumor among the cadets and omegas is that he has a birthday coming up soon. Real soon."

"And how did you come upon this knowledge?"

Matt shrugged, tossing his bag into the chute and wiping a questionable substance on his slacks. He tried not to appear too eager on his friend's behalf. "The omegas like to look after their own and I may have eavesdropped on a few of their conversations in the library. They have the juiciest gossip, you know. It's always more fun to listen to the omegas than the alphas. Alphas are just..."

He paused, eyes flicking to Shiro. The alpha stared back at him steadily, waiting. 

"--Uh, they're just not as interesting."

"Nice save." Shiro scoffed, slamming the chute shut and dragging Matt back by the collar of his uniform. All morning he had bent himself go the task of cleaning their humble accommodations. There were no few cartons of peanut riddled lo mein that he knew was not his own. It was time for Matt to pull his weight and he knew of a vacuum sitting disused in a closet that was calling for the beta's attention.

Another two hours later, with carpet vacuumed, kitchen sanitized, and all dirty clothes and bedding bundled up and tucked discreetly into a closet, they both had to admit the dorm looked rather good. It was livable once more. Hopefully livable enough for an omega to stomach for a few hours. Neither were all that sure how sensitive Keith's omega's senses were, given the cadet's unusual nature.

"I think he said he lives in some kind of ranch style house in the desert with his dad." Matt said conversationally, spraying a bit of febreeze to chase away the last lingering odors. "Just him and his alpha dad. No telling what is considered clean to him. He may be as alpha minded about cleaning as you are, if he was raised by a single alpha dad."

Shiro did not wish to speculate; it seemed rude to dissect the omega's life to try and discover if he might be offended by a spattering of dirt. They would find out soon enough. Perhaps in time, they would even learn about this alpha father and what type of upbringing Keith had.

======

When the moment of truth arrived and the much anticipated knock came at the door, both Shiro and Matt held their breath. A careless smile was flashed at them as Keith stepped inside, books in hand, stuffed backpack hung carelessly over one shoulder. A gentle scent teased Shiro's nose as the cadet passed, and his inner alpha shuddered, forced into strict submission by his iron will. _None of that!_ he seethed inwardly, shutting the door firmly. Keith glanced at him, a strange expression flitting across his fine features briefly before walking over to the coffee table and setting his books in order.

"That's a good sign." Matt whispered conspiratorially. "He didn't smell a thing. We cleaned good."

Shiro grunted. "Or he's being polite and not mentioning that it smells like a dump to him."

He tried to remain optimistic, hoping that Matt was right and that they had chased away the worst of the squalor. As he took a seat at the table beside the cadet though, Shiro began to wish they had not so thoroughly purged their dorm of scent. As the minutes ticked by, the sweet whiff of omega he had caught as Keith walked by him taunted him. Every breath he took, the scent filled his nostrils, flooding his brain and making his mind swim. Although both Keith and Matt remained bent over their assignments, quietly working, Shiro found it impossible to focus. 

For what seemed the hundredth time in a span of minutes, his eyes flicked to Keith, ghosting over the smooth plains of the cadet's face, memorizing the fall of his raven hair and the way the boy's brow scrunched in concentration. He was a petite omega, Shiro thought suddenly, gaze falling to Keith's thin arms and the lithe legs delicately tucked beneath his frame. he tried not to think how alluring the sight of the omega was and snapped his attention back to his homework. 

How long had he been staring at the math problem before him? It seemed that at least five minutes had passed. He had read the problem at least ten times. It was poor progress and there were a dozen more advance problems awaiting his attention. If he did not clear his head and get back into the game, he would suffer for it the following day.

The scent was too strong to ignore though. Every time he dropped his gaze to his text book the scent was there again, dancing along his skin and beckoning his mind to frivolous and lurid places. A heavy sigh exploded past his lips and he tossed his pencil down.

Surprised by the display, Keith set his own book aside. "Everything alright?"

Shiro forced a smile. "Yeah. My, uh, brain is just fried from all this math." He made it a point not to glance at Matt and observe the smug expression he knew his friend was wearing. 

"Oh." Keith's pencil dropped next. "Well, maybe we should take a break then. It's only Friday. You can do it over the weekend, right?"

"Right." Matt answered for him, eagerly shoving his own assignments aside and kicking his feet up on the table. Shiro knocked his feet down. "Anyway, Keith, I was telling Shiro that I had heard some interesting news from the other omegas. They were saying that--"

"Jesus, Matt..."

"--that it's your birthday next weekend. Is that true?"

A dictionary--Shiro needed to buy Matt a dictionary and teach him the word 'subtle'. He would print the word on a ream of a thousand sheets and paste them all over the beta's room. He would write it on the fridge whiteboard every morning and just for good measure he would write it on a pack of post-it notes and stick them in secret spots in his friend's books, in his papers, and secret spots all about the dorm. Maybe, just maybe, Matt would catch the hint and learn to be discreet. 

Keith looked between the two roommates, sensing some tension. Unable to found the source of the unease, he shrugged his shoulders gently. "Yeah, that's right. I'm surprised the other omegas knew."

Matt chuckled, carefully avoiding Shiro's heated gaze. "The omegas here are pretty crafty. They're always the first to know things. I swear they have an underground network of spies, their own grapevine."

"If they do, I've never heard of it." Keith said quietly. Not that he had made many friends in his omega dorm, but there were several friendly faces that he exchanged pleasantries with. And James. James didn't exactly count though, as he was not sure he could call his fellow small-town omega a friend so much as an irritant. The feeling was likely mutual. 

Matt was opening his mouth again. Shiro knew he had to make a move; he could never predict what would come out of Matt's mouth and whether it could be taken as offensive to a naive and sensitive omega. Once this study session was over, he would be having stern words with the beta about boundaries and respect. Until then though, he had to try and deflect any damage Matt might cause.

Leaning forward and blocking Matt from Keith's view, he smiled widely and asked as casually as possible, "Any special plans for the birthday? How old will you be?"

Keith smiled. "Eighteen."

Shiro grimaced at the loud oooh-ing and cat-call that Matt uttered. He plunged on. "That's a good age. When I turned eighteen, my parents threw a big party and invited all of the family and friends. They were so proud, said I was a man." 

He laughed at the memory of his uncles getting drunk and his tipsy cousins clumsily stumbling through the yard and falling into the pool. He couldn't remember his twenty-first birthday, but he imagined that it was as big a mess, if not bigger, seeing as he himself was wasted to the point of vomiting his guts for the following three days. 

The story drew deep laughter from the others and Keith rubbed at a bit of water at the corner of his eye.

"I don't imagine anything like that will happen; my dad is pretty strict when it comes to alcohol. I'm only allowed to have sips of beer and sake on holidays and special events."

"Dry house?"

"No." Keith snorted, thinking of the many bottles and cans of beer he routinely spotted in the recycling bin. "Hardly. He just doesn't like his only precious baby omega son to do anything unseemly. So we're going to go camping."

"Camping?" Matt echoed. 

The cadet nodded. "Camping. It was either that or a strip club and he was adamantly against that, as I'm sure you can imagine."

Protected. Not naive, as Shiro had originally thought, but beloved by his parent and well looked after. There was something fetching in the way that Keith spoke of his unusual upbringing. It was different, certainly, and colored the cadet's view of the world and explained some of his unusual tendencies...but the way the boy smiled whenever he spoke of his cautious father was heartening. There was love in that household. There was love in Keith's heart. He caught himself leaning into the palm of his hand, wondering if perhaps someday he would be able to find a home in the omega's heart as well, if one day Keith might speak of him with a wistful smile and happy tone. 

=====

The sky never seemed to change; it was the same is it was a month ago when he had come out to search the stars, it was the same as it was a year ago when he and Keith huddled together to watch meteorites, it was the same as it was some 18 years ago when his lady had fallen from the sky. The sky never changed. It was as it had been years ago and Tex was certain it would be the same for many, many years to come. There was a strange sort of comfort in that idea. 

With a content sigh, he prodded at the campfire, sending a shower of vibrant sparks flying into the falling twilight. 

They had driven out to the most secluded part of the canyon earlier that morning, the truck stuffed to the brim with gear and food rations. There was more food than Tex knew what to do with, but a quick glance at Keith, running circles around their intended campsite and setting rocks in place for a firepit reminded him that his boy would eat two thirds of the rations. 

The canyon crowded in on three sides, the solid orange rocks forming a formidable barrier that both find they enjoyed. Had necessity not demanded it, Tex rather thought they would have slept in the open air, admiring the stars as the shadows on the canyon walls grew deeper. Up the tent had gone; it would be a tight fit for the both of them. It was easier camping when Keith had been small enough to carry in one arm and barely took up two feet of space. Already the man anticipated an evening of playing human heater for the boy. 

"It's nice out here." Keith said quietly, legs drawn to his chest as he scooched closer to the fire for warmth. His father grunted in agreement. "Is that why you settled out here? Because it was nice?"

A lovely and naive thought. 

"Not quite." Not at all, honestly. Tex laughed, reaching for the flask he had brought along with them and taking a heavy swig. "I settled out here for two reasons. One: I didn't know where else to go, so I followed Ern. And two: the land was dirt cheap out here, so I could actually afford to keep a roof over my head."

Oddly, he found that he was no longer so ashamed to admit such a thing to his son. The time to be ashamed had passed. Keith was intelligent; Keith knew what his financial situation was and try as he might to shield his son from harmful gossip, he was certain that Keith had heard a tale or two about his questionable past. Lying to the boy would do no good, so why bother? Tex found that he preferred the direct and honest approach. It was how they led the rest of their lives. He saw no need for there to be secrets between them--not that he wouldn't omit certain facts, if he felt the need. 

Beside him, Keith had begun to chew on his bottom lip thoughtfully. It was an expression that was all too familiar to Tex. He sighed again, leaning back against his bedroll and tucking his arms behind his head. A bright white star blazed directly above them. 

"Yer mother liked it out here too. Almost every night we would be out here, lookin' at the stars."

Keith held his breath. Should he respond? Good sense told him to remain silent, to allow his father to ramble. They never spoke of his mother. The only information he had of his mysterious birthgiver was that she was some place far away and she had left very shortly after he was born. He thought that the woman must have loved them, otherwise why would his father cling to her blade for years and scorn the company of other women? Certainly, the man was not clutching a ring to his chest each day or sighing forlornly over a worm photo of his one-time lover, but Keith had suspicions as to how deep the depths of his father's affections were. 

As the silence between them stretched on, he dared to speak. "You don't talk about mom, much..."

"Mmm." There were good reasons for that, some of which he doubted that he would ever be able to tell his boy. "I know it must be tough on you, not to have a mother around."

"Yeah." Keith tried to smile. "But I had you."

"A boy should still have a mother." 

Another long beat of silence. It was difficult for Keith to gage his father's temperament when it came to the subject of his mother. Although the man had been open and far more chatty than usual all that day, just the thought of the woman tended to push his father into a silent, contemplative state. If he pushed, he would get nowhere, Keith told himself, but what had he to lose? He had been turned down by his father before; if the man refused his polite request for information yet again, he would have lost little, save time. Some day the man would have to open up to him about his mother. Hopefully.

He kicked a rock into the firepit nervously. "What was mom like?"

The star twinkled above Tex's head. He allowed his thoughts to drift back through the years, when he was younger, fitter, more handsome, far more reckless. His mind went back to the time when he did not have the burden of fatherhood on his shoulders, back to the time when he was unattached but very much in love.

Everyday he could see his lady's face in Keith. It hurt, more than he dared to admit to. 

"Your mother was..." he paused, choosing his words with great care, lest his words did not do her justice. "She was beautiful. Strong, brave, intelligent. She was everything a man could desire."

Keith frowned, staring hard at his father's wistful expression, wondering where the man's mind was. "You've never said that before."

"I don't talk about her much."

"No, but...when you did talk about her, you were..." He didn't know what to say. Could he bluntly tell his father that he had been painfully dismissive of the woman who was his mother? It seemed a bad idea, but Tex gathered what he was attempting to communicate.

He could not look at his son. "I spent so many years being angry with your mother for leaving us that for awhile I forgot how much I loved her. I was angry that she left me, I was angry that she left you, I was angry that she abandoned us when we were so clearly in need of each other. I had no money to care for a baby on my own. I couldn't afford a crib for you until you were two."

"I remember. You said you put me in a crate." Keith smiled wanly, attempting to keep the atmosphere light. He just needed to keep his father talking. 

"I had such a hard time taking care of us. You deserved so much more than what I gave you. So I got angry."

"But you did love her?" Keith asked breathlessly. He had to know. If his father stopped talking then, if the man never mentioned his mother ever again, he would endure, but he needed to know this one thing. "You really loved her, didn't you?"

At last Tex looked at his boy. "I did. I loved yer mother with all my heart and I still love her. And I need you to know that she loved you more than anything in this world. She loved me, she loved you, I loved her, and I love you."

Love. He had waited years to hear that word coming from his father's mouth, connected to his mother. For years he had thirsted for words of his mother, eavesdropping on his father's conversations, snooping through his papers, committing a number of shameful offenses in the hope of finding some detail about his mother that would bring her to life, if only in his mind. Yet for ages all he knew was that some nameless woman had come out of nowhere, been romanced by his dashing father, and in the wake of their love, he had been born. And then it all fell apart and one day the woman was simply gone. That was the end of the story and nowhere had there ever been uttered the word 'love'. 

A hiccup built in Keith's throat, which he valiant fought to keep down. The second he thought of the word love again, the sound escaped him in a high chirp-like sound that alarmed his father so much, the man sat upright and wrapped his strong arms around him. 

He was stupid to be crying, Keith seethed as he rubbed furiously at his eyes. It shouldn't matter. Love was just a word and unseen concept. ...But it did matter. It mattered because he wasn't the accident he had grown up thinking he was. He wasn't the bastard burden to his father that his schoolmates had whispered about. He was so much more than that. He was love made flesh. 

He hiccuped again, trying to mask the sound with a laugh. "Do you remember her name?"

Tex smiled gently, running a hand through the boy's hair. " 'Course I remember. Her name was Krolia."

Krolia. For the second time within the span of ten minutes, Keith's life shattered and recreated itself. He had a name for his faceless mother. Krolia. She was no longer 'that woman' or 'his mother'. She was Krolia. Krolia, lover of Tex, mother of Keith. He shut his eyes, repeating the name over and over, searing it into his memory, until he was certain he would never forget. Krolia. His mother. Krolia, who loved his dad. Krolia, Krolia, Krolia. Now that he had it, he would never let that piece of her go.


End file.
